An interview with Barbara Elsborg

Barbara Elsborg has multiple novels and short stories published with Ellora’s Cave, Loose I.D. and Ravenous Romance. You can visit with her at he blog,  http://barbaraelsborg.blogspot.com/. 
Barbara's novels are available online and in print. She’s been described as having strong heroines with a sense of humor that keep her readers turning the pages and wanting more. Please help me give a big welcome to Barbara Elsborg, romance author extraordinaire.

Why do you write?

I write because the world in my head is far more interesting than the one I live in. I write because without it, I’d go crazy. I write because it’s what I love doing. I write because I hate shopping and cooking and cleaning.


What were your early influences in writing?

TV and movies. I was an unhappy child, teased because I was very tall and I didn’t have any friends. Pause for sympathy. I walked to school on my own and used to drag TV or movie stars along with me and chat to them in my head. A short step then to making up a world with me and them in it and from there to writing it down. I filled lots of notebooks with fan fiction – still have them. They all feature a tall, blonde, gawky girl and a handsome actor.

When did you know you wanted to be an author?

I’ve always written but I guess the idea of actually wanting to be published didn’t stick its claws in me until I was in my early twenties. I subbed my first novel when I was twenty-seven. A thriller called Unnatural Selection. I did get a personalized rejection from one publisher – who called it very dark and asked for something lighter. It’s still in the bottom of the closet. Funnily enough it features a tall, blonde, gawky girl.


What kinds of research do you do for your novels?

I don’t write anything that requires a huge amount of research. I write from knowledge and experience – well apart from the whips and chains and clamps and – er… no, I obviously don’t write from experience at all. Google is my source for almost everything, that and my thousands of books.

What are you favorite scenes to write?

Dialogue – especially snappy dialogue between hero and heroine. Other than that, I like all of it.

Do you have a favorite character?

In my stories? Charlie in Strangers. He is such a bad boy with so many faults but he is irresistible. The photo of the guy on the cover is uncannily close to how I’d imagine him. Not exact but near enough for me to love that cover.

Do you have any favorite lines in your novels?

The end. Ha ha. Awful confession I know but I can’t remember much detail of what I write. It comes as a complete shock to me when I reread a story. Did I actually write that?– are the words that often flitter through my head.
What are the hardest scenes to write?

Sex scenes. I don’t find them easy. They need to be different and it’s all been done before. All that thrusting and pounding and pressing and pushing and stroking and…oops getting a little carried away.

Please, tell us about some of your books.

~Lucy in the Sky~

When you find a spaceship in your backyard, what do you do? Choose from three:Phone the police.Scream.Go yell at the alien for wrecking your garden.Lucy confronts the inept pilot and the last option turns out to be both the right and wrong choice. She’s torn between fury that gorgeous alien hunk Three has decapitated her statue of Eros, and a longing that he enliven her boring life and whisk her to the stars. Three doesn’t give her a choice when he throws her over his shoulder and takes her into space. Lucy soon finds herself exploring alien territory in ways she never imagined.Three’s efforts to hide and protect her on the mother ship are stymied by his inability to keep his hands off the luscious Lucy. But Three and Lucy are being observed. Three’s friend Hyll has been in unrequited lust with Three for years. And he wants what Lucy’s getting. When lust turns to love, it comes from a most unexpected quarter.

* * *

I'd like to put it on record that if ever a spaceship DOES land in my garden, I'd like the alien to look like Three. If it's some monstrous blob with three eyes and green skin, the lady next door is lovely!!


~The Consolation Prize~

'You are invited to spend four days at Sunset Spa, Washburn Hall. Accommodation and nourishment provided. All spa treatments included.'It should have been a big thrill--an all expenses paid trip, but it was actually the topping on Chloe's really bad night. She'd lost her promotion, destroyed a pair of designer pumps, and turned in her notice. Washburn Hall, where her family died, was the last place she wanted to go. But Chloe's pulled towards the spa by forces beyond her control.Luka is handsome, rich, and gay. That's what he'd like everyone to think. Luka's really a Trueblood, a fertile vampire. Not a bad thing, unless being staked out in the sun and fried to a crisp is appealing. But his secret gets out. Instead of staked, he gets shanghaied--straight into stud service and chained up in a basement of Washburn Hall.Chloe wonders if the gorgeous naked man in chains is part of the all-inclusive package. Somehow she doesn't think so, but you know what? She's taking a consolation prize: free him and run. It should be simple enough. After all, the only thing between Chloe and the man of her dreams is a few horny vamps, a decent set of bolt cutters, and a step-grandmother from hell.Who said the trip to the spa wouldn't be fun?

~Lightning in a Bottle~

Lightning isn't supposed to strike twice, but when the electrifying Erin Markov whirls into Felix's life she gives him more than his destroyed family home to think about. Erin's exciting and unpredictable, in and out of bed, if only he could get her to stop dancing in thunderstorms, rollerblading in the middle of the night, and leaping around on unsafe roofs. Plus she has this annoying habit of biting his neck.Erin wishes she could remember who she is. The couple who claim to be her parents leave her in a dilapidated stately home with supplies of a revolting energy drink and instructions not to go out in the sun. Then she discovers sculptor Felix living next door and life becomes far more tasty.

~The Misfits~

It's not easy being a faerie. Holly would know. She's the laughing stock of Fae, useless at magic and has wings that never cooperate. She can't understand why a high-born faerie she hardly knows would want to marry her because she certainly doesn't want to marry him. The mortal world looks far more enticing.Being a vampire bites. Crippled with guilt over his part in the death of his twin, Dominic is estranged from his family. When he rescues an injured werewolf on the run from his pack, he sees a kindred spirit in the damaged outcast.What use is a werewolf who can't scent or track? Victim of his conniving brother, Jay is viciously attacked by his pack. The wolves might not want him but once he's living with Dominic, they won't leave him alone.After a night of passion with Dominic and Jay, Holly's ready to move in with them. But their enemies are intent on keeping them apart and the trio of misfits find themselves in a fight for survival. If they can't figure a way through the web of lies and deceit that bind them, they'll lose more than their families. They'll lose each other.~Falling for you~She lives for the moon.Every month, for five days around the full moon, Jo has the overwhelming urge to jump almost every male she sees. Convinced she's gone crazy, she seeks medical help but finds none. All she can do to stop the hunger is run. One wrong step and Jo's life plummets in a direction she didn't expect. She falls into the lair of a badly injured vampire.He lives for the night.Alek can't believe the angel who's dropped from the sky. With a knife wedged in his chest and too weak to move, he'd given up and is waiting for sunrise. But when the beautiful jogger crashes into his lair, Alek finds more than a way to survive -- he finds a reason for doing so.Every dog has his day.Lyall, alpha werewolf, wants Alek dead so he can take his land. He wants Jo alive to breed more wolves. But Lyall hasn't reckoned on the power of love. Annoying Alek is a big mistake. Annoying Jo could be fatal.


Do you have a writing tip to share?

Read your work out loud. You can hear what doesn’t work more easily than you can see it. You’ll spot repeats, poor grammar, inconsistencies etc. Oh and don't drink alcohol while you write. It won't seem such brilliant prose in the morning.

Any new novels in the works?

The Small Print (Tentative title)– a paranormal ménage with a vampire, werewolf and a something else. The something else is a secret. It will spoil the plot if I say what. The premise is that you should always read the fine print on a document – otherwise you could end up in trouble. When Turner – vampire – buys a new house, he doesn’t realize there are conditions attached and his life will never be the same again.'It’s In His Smile' – is the next project. Title still tentative but it’s about a gargoyle.

Any up and coming releases? What are they and when will they be available for purchase?

Snow Play – a Quickie for Ellora’s Cave – should be out soon but I don't have a release date yet. It's a MF contemporary set up a mountain in Austria where the heroine gets trapped in an ice cave. Just so happened I freaked out in an ice cave in Austria this year. I didn't get a handsome hunk as a rescuer though.

~Snow Play~

Single on a couples get-away? Not the way to spend your vacation.Allie, the odd woman out, takes a tour under a glacier and ends up trapped in the dark. Cold and alone, she resigns herself to a night of misery. But when Zach finds unclaimed skis after the mountain has closed, he follows his instincts and charges to the rescue, bringing more than a helping hand. He brings enough heat to melt the polar icecaps and change her life forever.Fight to Remember will be my next for Loose-Id – no release date yet. A MFM paranormal – the last in my Trueblood books.


~Fight to Remember~

A twist of his body and vampire, Rhyl Markov, avoids being staked in the heart. He’s thrown into the earth but trapped between slabs of rock, he manages to avoid plunging into hell. With only the blood of rats to keep him alive, he fights not to lose his mind.

What’s my name?

For eleven years, Piper Kennedy wakes with no idea who or where she is. After she falls asleep, she forgets all personal details of her life. Each day she must read her notebooks before she goes to work and then pretend to remember the day before. Her whole life is a battle.

What did I do last night?

Werepuma, Keir Sparks, is bound to a demon who operates a deadly fight club with only one leaving the ring. After seven wins, Keir hopes eight is his lucky number but the faces of the dead fill his mind when he hears his name chanted by the bloodthirsty crowd.

When will this end?

Three lives are set to collide. Rhyl’s memory returns while Piper’s remains elusive and all Keir wants is to forget what he did.
The Power of Love is an emotional roller coaster and a little known Elsborg treasure. I had the fortunate opportunity to read this novel in its early stages. I have to say it’s one of my favorites and I promise it’s a story readers won’t soon forget. Barbara, can you tell us a little bit about Joe and Poppy and what inspired the Power of Love?


~Power of Love~

Joe is a lost soul.When Joe is killed in the line of duty, the result of a blunder by his girlfriend Poppy, he ends up stuck between worlds, not quite in heaven, not quite in hell. Heaven is Poppy lying in his arms, hearing the sound of his name on her lips as he makes love to her, again and again. Hell is the knowledge that to save Poppy, he must convince her to let him go.Poppy is a soul lost.Joe was Poppy’s heart, her soul, and since he died she’s lost it all, including her sanity. Everywhere she looks, he’s there—talking to her, touching her, sharing ice cream, showers and making love to her like there’s no tomorrow. But tomorrow does come, and letting go of Joe could destroy her.Sometimes love lasts a lifetime. Sometimes love reaches beyond death. Sometimes…love lasts forever.

* * *

This isn't a sad book, it's largely a funny book! It was great fun to write though I should have remembered the challenges of writing about an invisible character. My WIP - has someone who's invisible throughout.I wanted to call this book Letting Go. Unusually for me I had the idea of the theme before I started writing. What normally happens is that at the end I have a moment of revelation where I realize that there IS a thread running through the story that links everything. I assume I do it subconsciously!! But this story - I had the idea of a woman who loved her boyfriend so much that after he died, she kept talking to him, kept him part of her life. She feels responsible for his death because she physically let him go. So its the story of how she has to learn to let go and how Joe has to learn to open his heart to love. That sounds sad and morbid and it isn't!!

What kind of research did you do for the Power of Love?

I had to find out a little about the British police force but other than that, it came pretty much out of my head. Apart from the sex. That's all made up. Oops.

How about an excerpt?

Joe awoke at sloth speed, facedown and dribbling into his pillow. He slid his cheek a couple of inches onto a dry spot. His eyelids fluttered but stayed closed. Too much effort. His back itched—no, ached. Shit, it really ached. Joe gradually became aware something was very wrong with his back. It hurt like he’d been hit with a barstool. What the fuck had happened last night? Had he been hit with a bar stool? He tried to roll over. Pain shot down the length of his spine, spiraling into his legs and he froze. What the hell had he been doing? Joe pressed his face deeper into the pillow. Damned if he could remember. His head didn’t swim, nor did his stomach so this wasn’t a hangover.

Memories trickled through the thick sludge in his brain, filtering into pockets of sense. An accident. Yeah, come to think of it, he remembered…falling. Joe lifted his head and blinked. He must have hurt his back. What else? An exploratory hand between his legs ushered a sigh of relief. Backache he could cope with, but not damage to his wedding tackle.



Joe tried to shrug off his duvet and it flopped back in place. He sneezed in the disturbed air and howled at the knife-like pain between his shoulder blades. Howled seven times as he sneezed seven times. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t in hospital, this was definitely his room. Joe levered himself out of bed.



His body felt heavy and sluggish and whilst that wasn’t entirely unusual for a guy who liked sleeping, Joe prided himself on the fact that he was physically fit. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. One roll of his shoulders and a flurry of activity erupted behind him. The next moment Joe lay sprawled on the carpet and everything had gone dark. His eyes were open so why had the light dimmed? He forced his dull brain to cooperate. The duvet must have fallen over his head. He reached up and touched a feather. No wonder he’d sneezed. He was allergic to feathers which was why he’d purchased a synthetic-filled duvet. Joe felt the fluttering of alarm.



Every movement slow and careful, Joe got up again. He might not be firing on all cylinders but he knew he wasn’t alone. Someone was behind him. Joe tensed. Fuck, a burglar. Now his brain worked too fast. Someone had broken into his apartment. Someone was in his bedroom. That someone had fucking knocked him over. That someone was dead.



Joe whipped round and watched in horrified fascination as everything sailed off his bedside table. His Ferrari alarm clock hit the wall with a high pitched whine, followed by a glass of water and his watch. Joe whipped the other way and the music system on his chest of drawers sailed halfway around the room before crash-landing on the carpet. Joe seethed with fury. The fucker was wrecking his room. Where the hell was he? Joe spun again and three black and white prints of mountain peaks flew off one wall to smash on another.



He yelped. That hurt. Not just the ruined pictures. Him. It had hurt him. Joe glanced down at his naked body, a rapidly diminishing morning woodie and dark grey feathers.



Feathers? “What the fuck?”


Staggering to the wardrobe, he flung open the door to look in the mirror. A pale face stared back, his unruly dark hair wilder than usual. Joe looked down. Jonny and his two pals seemed okay, only now rather timid and retiring. He tried not to look at the other things he could see, but there was no way to ignore them. A fleeting hope a pinch might wake him, dissipated like snow falling in a puddle. This was no dream. Overnight, he’d grown wings. Fucking hell.


Barbara, I’d like to thank you for taking time to do this interview. Barbara will be giving away a copy of The Power of Love to one lucky reader. All you have to do is leave a comment under her interview here or the announcement for this interview at any of the below listed blogs or all of them. One comment per blog, please. Deadline to enter is midnight on Friday, May 7th. One prize—four chances to win: 

http://takeittothestars.blogspot.com/
http://backwardmomentum.blogspot.com/
http://para-fanatics.blogspot.com/
http://paranormalists.blogspot.com/

Thanks to everyone for stopping by. If you haven’t yet read any of Barbara’s books, I highly recommend you give them a read. Barbara’s books can be found both at Ellora’s Cave (link) and Loose I.D. (link) You won’t regret it.Best,D L Jackson

Thanks for having me, Dawn. I suppose I should mention my one and only non-erotic book - which is out 29th April 2010 with Cerridwen Press. The only one I can tell my mother-in-law about. My own mother is no doubt spinning in her grave at my depravity. Sorry, mum! Anyway - Digging Deeper - is a romantic comedy set where I live in West Yorkshire. Largely based on the disasters of my own life - though not the unexploded bomb- it's the story of how two people seem fated not to be together. It's the funniest thing I've written and modesty aside - I could really see it as a movie - should anyone out there be interested. It has everything - homicidal sheep, singing reindeer, nurses stuck in windows, tanning booth accidents.....

Para-fanatics Welcomes Author, Arlene Webb

Arlene Webb is a published author with Shadowfire Press. She's been described as having an unique voice, with an under current of intellectualism in her novels. Her stories range from science fiction to fantasy and historical and no two are even remotely alike. She has an interesting way of visualizing the world and bringing it to her readers that will leave a lasting impression with all who read her work.


Please, help me give a warm welcome to author and prose artist, Arlene Webb.



Arlene, please tell us about yourself.

My life is filled with the mundane, a loving dysfunctional family, and I’m happy. Enough said or I won't have anything to tweet about.

Why do you write?

70 % boredom. 28% obsession. 2% narcissism.

What were your early influences in writing?

From Mark Twain, Nancy Drew and Hardy boys, and even the bible in my childhood. I read whatever I could get my hands on. TV shows like Dark Shadows and Wizard of Oz helped too.

When did you know you wanted to be an author?

I still don’t know what I want to be, but I do know I have to write and I felt like an honest to god author when SFP said yes, they liked my stories.

What kinds of research do you do for your work?

Google. Daydream. Pester friends and family with strange questions.

What are you favorite scenes to write?

The ones that don’t make me smack myself in the forehead.

Do you have a favorite character?

Malcolm (Splintered Energy) has been with me since the first tumble onto pages. He’s the most competent of the lot and can be a right bastard. Caron (Incoming Alert) is a sweetheart though and he makes me smile when I think of him. Myles Logan (Ashes) has to be my greatest achievement as a writer. And…looks like I should have answered, no to a favorite.

Do you have any favorite lines in your novels?

Many, but here’s a few from opening chapters:

“Good lord, son. Can’t you just find pretty seashells like normal people?” Aaron. Splintered Energy

‘Seriously, zombies, vamps and giants aside, there had to be enraged villagers here, ready to castrate the first one found covered in floral blood.’ Joel. In Lieu of Flowers

‘A dying buzzard? More like a deathly ill, midget flamingo.’ Lyle. Ashes.

‘My vine would never hire a scum-toad lawyer to chew him free, strangle me dead, or creep off in pursuit of petunia.’ Settia. Rebel.

‘3.14159-26535…what the geek? Tedious math pie only confused him further.’

Boyron. Incoming Alert

“No one eats of a man here, except in a very pleasurable way without any loss of flesh.” Gareth. Eostre’s Hare.

“I love trouble, I crave trouble, I eat trouble for every meal.” Cu. Joy’s Creation.

'In my father’s arms, I became a man.’ Rijo. Father’s Embrace.

What are the hardest scenes to write?

All of them.

Please, tell us about your books.

Here's the link to purchase any of my books, published with Shadowfire Press: http://shadowfirestore.com/

~In Lieu of Flowers~ Tormented by flowers, stalked by non-existent fiends, will a youth with an overactive imagination ever find happiness?

A young man struggles with his overactive mind, dealing with helping in a family business he hates, and falling in love with a woman attached to another man. When one calamity leads to another, he learns his version of reality is not to be trusted.

~Rebel~Can an untamed lover distract from the desire to bring down the human race?

When the unforgivable happens, a mother's determination that her little ones blossom becomes an obsession. With a plan and the will, all she needs now is the means. A lowly hero agrees to help. His price? A moment of fun in the dark. When tendrils tighten and he's smitten, he's ready to sacrifice his all to prolong that moment. Many sentient creatures lose their heads when falling in love, yet no one ever expects the glorious aftermath to be quite so painful.

~Circle in the Sand~
Fallen angels, a handsome blue-eyed officer... How can a female geek concentrate?

Black glass? Oops. Marbles aren't the clue. How many times will our heroine pull the trigger before she gets the password right? And, how the hell can she pound the keyboard with a sexy cop breathing down her neck. Tight in the clutches of a powerful angel, entangled in the arms of the law, it's hard to separate right from wrong when little brat siblings are at stake--and even more difficult when knees go weak, the screen blurs, and heartbeats detonate with terror and attraction.

Under the Mistletoe
Alek's New Year's Eve plans didn't included being drained by a life sucking fiend.

New Years Eve and parties everywhere, but Alek--security and handy guy--is stuck at work in the department store taking down the holiday decorations.

His coworkers are jerks, and it seems as if every wacko in the neighborhood has descended on the store. Worse, the mistletoe is hanging way too high for anyone but him to deal with.

Just when Alek thinks he's going to be able to escape in time for a little celebrating, his life takes a deadly turn and instead he's attacked by a thirsty parasite. Then the parasite exterminator arrives in the form of a dark handsome hunk and things go from weird to downright bizarre. Can you really find love Under the Mistletoe, or is it a killer lying in wait?

~Father's Embrace~There's nothing Rijo won't do to feel his father's arms around him.

His love of life strong, his love for family even stronger, a young wolf suffers one loss after the other. When a terrible fate befalls his only surviving sibling, Rijo chooses to continue caring for her and the monster that she has become.

Unfortunately, the alpha male in his life thinks otherwise, and Rijo is torn between helping his sister and defying his father. When two strangers enter their territory, he struggles against all odds to protect her, and then deal with the calamity he brings upon his father and himself when he fails.

With determination and affection that transcends bigotry and fear, Rijo will become whatever it takes to put things right with his father.

~Eostre's Hare~
When Garreth finds Gwas he has no idea what's in store for them.

Gwas can outrun a horse, knows how to hide and steal, but he's ignorant of the ways of men. The last thing he expects when he is rescued from a miserable existence by a blue eyed, blond haired angel is to be promised as a Druidic sacrifice to Eostre.

Maura knows Gareth is no angel but she adores him with a passion that time and loneliness can't dent. She opens her heart when Gareth brings her the abused orphan known only by his title, Gwas, meaning servant. The love between the three of them grows so strong Gareth will defy man and gods to embrace it.

The clash of old and new religions puts their lives in peril, but when hatred and murder confront enduring love, winter gives way to spring and a colorful myth is born.

~Joy's Creation~
It's all in a day's work for Dr. Cu to help emotionally challenged people find what they need in life. But who's going to help Dr. Cu find what he needs? Certainly not his mother or father. His mother is much too busy with her own life of lust and the endless parade of perfect men who move in and out of her life. And his dad spends his time making war, and being jealous of his mother's men.

Forced to attend yet another of his mother's Valentine's Day parties, Cu is thoroughly fed up with the entire thing, until he stumbles across a sultry beauty that's too much for him to resist.


Do you have a writing tip to share?

Don’t start. If you ignore that tip, don’t give up.

Tell us more about your latest release. Shadowfire Press put out a call for an Easter submission, and I became obsessed with how a myth began. Even with an egg symbolic of the renewal of life, and the rabbit revered for its prolific nature, it seemed almost as hard to imagine how Harvey came to be hopping down a trail as a fat man in a red suit could slide down chimneys. I couldn't sleep after I learned of monstrosities between neighbors in pre-medieval Briton, and I hope I gave voice to men long dead, showed how enduring love can be.

How about an excerpt?

In the year of the Lord, 612 AD

Blood trickled down his face and splattered off his chin. Bright red droplets marked leaf and grass, the sharp aroma increasing the lust of the beasts behind him. The baying of the lead hound vibrated closer and closer. Gwas’ left foot came down hard, and then the right. He tucked his head low to avoid another branch cracking open his forehead as adrenalin surged and panic fueled his heartbeat.

He twisted to the left, toward the light and out of the dense thicket. They’d have to risk the footpath. The little hare frantically hopped on his heels, unable to reach top speed while dodging roots, foliage and blasted rocks. Gwas yearned to scoop up his friend, curl into a ball and fight his shivers under a clump of brush, but giving into terror would guarantee they’d die in a very painful way. The race to survive seemed more than excruciating enough on its own.

His lungs burned like he’d swallowed a sharp sword. The hurt brought tears to his eyes as he fought against his need to breathe. Bitty’s lean brown body could readily absorb the force between earth and ground produced by running at extreme speed, but Gwas was only a clumsy human. What he had in common with his four footed friend was, so far, a short existence.

#####

We will be giving away an e-copy of Eostre's Hare. Please comment and mention which holiday blurb you like the best: Under the Mistletoe, Joy's Creation, or Eostre's Hare. We'll pick a winner from the entries left under the interview posted on three blogs: Para-fanatics, Backward Momentum or Take it to the Stars. One entry per blog, three chances to win the e-book. Deadline is Midnight of April 21st. Please leave your email address so we can contact you if you're the lucky winner. Good luck.

Thank you, so much, for having me on your blog!

Meet Arlene Webb and receive a chance to win a copy of Eostre's Hare

Visit these blogs: Backward Momentum http://backwardmomentum.blogspot.com/ and Para-fantics on Wednesday, April 14th for a chance to win Arlene Webb's latest release, Eostre's Hare.

A peek at the WIP

Here's an excerpt from one of my WIPs that follows Slipping the Past. For those of you who've read Slipping the Past, can you tell me what might be chasing her here? It's not what you've expect. :)

Perhaps she’d misplaced it? Taken the skull home? Did she really have it on her desk or had she left it in the storage locker in the basement? It was late and she was tired and with the hours she’d been putting in, she was lucky to remember anything. No bigger than a paperweight, it could easily be misplaced, but she’d never been that careless.


Paxton had come across the crystal skull while reviewing the museum archives for an upcoming South American exhibit. She’d been doubly surprised to find the artifact tucked in the back of the old drawer in a small wooden crate, covered with dust, and even more surprised that the museum retained the artifact after science recently proved the others fakes. Unable to resist the mystery, she’d pulled the records of where it had been recovered and contacted the man who’d found it.

After several dinners and phone conversations, Paxton was certain of two things. One, the skull wasn’t a fake and two, she wanted it to be the centerpiece of her exhibit. Dr. Moore had authenticated it and with what she suspected, the crystal skull might be proof of alien visitation thousands of years before. Dr. Moore mentioned there had been others and he’d been closing in on their location by following Native American legend and lore. Something about what he said excited her and she’d become so obsessed she couldn’t stop researching.

She planned to mount an expedition to the wastelands in an area once known as New Mexico. When she’d announced her intentions during a bi-annual investors meeting, the boardroom went silent. Then laughter, snickering behind hands and ugly stares. Afterward, her boss pulled her into his office to tell her if she pursued her idea, she could hand in her resignation. The museum wouldn’t have a part in the historical debauchery she’d planned.

Of course she’d ignored him, knowing once he saw the proof, he’d be as excited as she. Dr. Moore, the man who found the relic, warned her to leave it alone. He’d lost his credibility, family and all he’d loved because of that relic. Worse yet, he was convinced they were being watched. She’d laughed it off as paranoia. Until now.

Paxton tugged her drawer open. Nothing. She slammed it shut and opened the next. Empty. Perhaps... She spun and ripped open the file cabinet. At least she had the file. She flipped through the drawer for the holo-disc. Um, maybe not. Okay, she’d put it right there.

She massaged her temples. Where the hell did everything go? She wasn’t hallucinating. The requisition form, inventory invoices, the photographs and maps of the dig. All the documentation had been in that file. She hadn’t left the office for more than five minutes to grab a cup of coffee and her office had been locked.

From outside a loud crash. Paxton glanced up at the clock. 2:00am. At this hour, only one person could be out there. What was he doing? Remodeling? She slipped her com on.

“Devin, you out there?”

Only static responded. She adjusted the volume. “Devin?” More sound out in the hall. Shadows flickered across the frosted glass on her office door. She’d locked it? Right? Paralyzed, Paxton swallowed and whispered. “Devin, this isn’t funny.”

The com went dead. Well, that couldn’t be good. She yanked it off and stood. Devin always answered when she called, even from the men’s room. It wasn’t like him.

“Who’s out there?”

The handle began to turn. Paxton squeaked and ran for the door. She slammed the bolt shut and jumped to the side. If she could see shadows through the frosted glass, whoever was out there could see in and she’d rather they not. She hit the lights and slid down the wall, until she sat on her heels. “I’m calling security.”

They didn’t seem too worried about it. Shadows danced along the bottom of the door. “The Enforcers are coming.”

The handle wiggled again.

Shit. Not good. Not only did that not seem to bother them, they hadn’t left. She’d seen enough horror shows to know the blonde caught alone in the office at the hour she’d been caught, always became worm fodder because of some guy with a big knife, or axe or machete. Oh please not a machete. With the war display down the hall, they could take their pick of any number of fun and exciting ways to gut her. She closed her eyes and visualized the inventory. No, the machete wasn’t so bad.

Someone threw their weight against the door. Paxton yipped. Okay, get the hell out of the office, dipshit. What are you waiting for? She bit her lip and crawled across the floor to a window behind her desk, scrambling as fast as she could on her hands and knees. Worm fodder, worm fodder, worm fodder.

The bolt would hold. The glass was shatter resistant, but that door… She’d been the idiot to request the hand-carved replica of an antique temple door. Balsa was an easy wood to carve or so she’d been told and it was glued to a hollow core cheapie. Nice secure choice, i-d-i-o-t.

She bit her lip, grabbed her purse and pulled the window open. Paxton kicked off her heels and stuck her head out. Five stories below was the street. Snow floated down so heavy it made it impossible to see the building across the way. Slick, windy, stupid, mustn’t forget the stupid part. “Oh God.” What had she gotten herself into?

Two windows over and she’d be in the kitchen. Maybe she need only ask what they want? Why risk her neck? “Can I help you?” she called.

The entire door shook and Paxton swallowed. Okay, that would be a no. She stuck her head back out. Fifteen feet, perhaps? From the kitchen she could exit into another hallway and take the fire escape to the ground floor where the security officer was stationed and hopefully alive. The door banged again as someone slammed into it. But then again, in the movies the psycho always got the guard first.

She climbed onto the brownstone sill and pressed her bottom against the stone blocks. This was crazy. She was crazy. The snow and rough surface would destroy her favorite silk suit. The door rattled again, vibrating the contents of her office. Who the fuck cared?

Don’t look down. Focus. You can do this. Step and slide. Step and slide. She shuffled sideways, pushing the snow along the ledge like a plow, refusing to even take a peek at the street below. She’d lose her courage and now was not the time or place for that.

In one hand she held her purse the other her Sling-backs hooked on a finger. Whoever was trying to break in had to have seen the light and thought that she might have the combination to the vault? Surely a thief, not someone that watched as Dr. Moore speculated. She had to believe that, anything else was too scary to contemplate.

Step and slide. Step and slide. She continued to move along the sill until the window was behind her. She pushed it open and crawled through. Not so bad. They couldn’t know she was in the kitchen, but she shouldn’t stick around for them to find out.

Paxton crept to the door and cracked it open. The corridor looked empty. Around the corner was her office and whoever was trying to break in. She’d have to go through the war exhibit to get to the fire escape and exit. She went to step into the hall and her feet remained glued. Going out there unarmed, not a good idea. At least her feet were being logical.

Paxton surveyed the kitchen. She yanked open a drawer and found a butter knife. Not the sharpest implement in the world but it would do in a pinch and if anyone was pinched, it was her.

She slipped her purse strap across her chest diagonally and yanked the refrigerator open. A half-eaten sandwich. Not helpful unless bologna could be turned into a lethal weapon. She eyed a jar of pickles. It had some heft to it and could be an effective missile, or she could bash someone over the head with it. Brilliant. She’d take that too.

A loud crash came from what was certainly her office. Time to get out of the kitchen. She tucked the butter knife in her waistband and tiptoed toward the war exhibit.

It didn’t take long before she heard footsteps behind her. She picked up the pace and ran past Genghis Khan, past Caesar and Marc Anthony to duck behind a bare-assed marble statue of a Greek warrior. She squatted down. The statue’s anatomically correct bits sat an inch from her face and stood erect as though they’d popped up to say hello.

She tried to ignore them, but the shadows cast by her outline and the statue, looked downright vulgar. Any other time and she’d probably laughed at how preposterous the situation was. As it was, the footsteps were too close for her to attempt to move. She’d have to take a chance they didn’t see the shadow and that meant remaining as still as the statue.

She slowed her breathing as the footsteps drew closer. Her fingers tightened around the pickle jar. As the man came around the statue, Paxton sprang. She raised the jar high and smashed it over his head with a loud scream.

The jar shattered and the man dropped with a grunt, bathed in dill and vinegar. She leaned in to get a look at her attacker and gasped.

“Devin?”

He groaned in response.

Paxton shook his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Why the hell did you hit me?” A trickle of blood ran down his forehead.

“I thought you were after me.”

“My head hurts and everything is spinning. What’s that smell?”

This wouldn’t bode well for her employment.

“Don’t move. I’ll call for help.” Oh, hell. How was she going to explain this to her boss? Gee sir, I thought someone wanted to kill me so I brained the museum security with your pickles. Why would anyone want to kill me? Good question, sir. I was investigating that skull you told me to leave be. Yup, she could kiss this job goodbye.

Paxton plucked his headset free and slipped it on. “This is Dr. Paxton Silver. I need to call for medical transport. The New Stratus Museum of History. Head injury. Pickles. I didn’t stutter. He got hit with a jar of pickles.”

“You hit me with a jar of pickles?”

“I thought you were trying to kill me.”

“I was making my rounds. There’s nobody else here. You really have gone crazy like they said.”

“Who said that?”

****

“What do you mean I’ve never had accounts with you?”

“I’m sorry Ms. Silver, but the bank has no record of any accounts in your name.”

“I had accounts. Have…look.” She reached into her purse and extracted a chip, setting it in front of the woman. “Look. My name. My account number. My chip.”

The woman picked up the chip and zipped it across a scanner as though she was bored with the whole situation. She glanced at the screen and her eyes widened. Her gaze shifted back to Paxton then back to the screen. She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Excuse me for one moment.” She rose with the chip in hand and headed for an area behind closed doors. For the second time that day, Paxton’s hair snapped erect. Something wasn’t right.

She leaned forward and turned the screen. Her picture was plastered on it with big, bold letters. “Security Alert. Wanted for fraud. Address unknown.” At least she had a place to hide. Paxton scrambled out of her seat and rushed as quickly for the doors as she could without running. Several of the bank employees lifted their heads from their work and looked at her. “Parked in a timed zone,” she spluttered.

She hit the doors and didn’t look back. They’d call the Enforcers and the Enforcers didn’t ask questions. Shit, shit, shit. She was a wanted criminal. She hadn’t done anything, but no one would believe her. First the pickle incident, then her forced leave from work and now her bank accounts. How was she going to get food to eat and pay her bills? But even that wasn’t the worst of it.

She was being deleted.

Ghost Post #3

My brother has a creepy hobby. He goes out at night and photographs old cemetaries, ghost towns condemned buildings and even an old abbandoned smelting plant, in the hope of catching the images of the residents we don't know are there. He's captured some pretty woo-woo moments and this is one of them. The fog wasn't there when the picture was taken. My brother attempted to take the picture several times before his camera finally worked. New batteries, new camera. It worked fine everywhere but here.
Look in the lower right hand corner an inch from the bottom. There's a face.
Anybody see any others?

Ghost Post #2

Fremont County, Colorado. It's the home of cowboys, people who love the outdoors, artists and ghosts. Here's a picture my brother took. At the time he thought it was of an old foundation. After he downloaded the photos to his computer he saw this. It shows up better on a computer that isn't a flat screen, so I hope you can see the faces in the fog.
By the way, it wasn't a foundation. It was an old mine that collapsed back in the 1800s and was sealed off for public safety and that fog wasn't there when he took the picture.

Jim Butcher, who is he and why should you care?

Do you like urban fantasy? Humor? Then you'll love Jim. I got hooked on Jim about five years ago when I started reading to my children at breakfast. No, not little kids but teenagers. Go ahead, laugh. I swear I did do this and it wasn't to torture them. I remember a similar experience I had with my mother when she sat my brother, sister and I around the table to read the hobbit and some stupid book on self-esteem, which to this day, I still roll my eyes when I think about it. But what I remember most about that time, was spending it with my family and doing something that required listening and interaction with each other. This round table reading started my love of not only writing but reading.

So, when I noticed my children were living on the video games and watching television way too much, I realized my family had no interaction and it was time to introduce them to the round table. Time was going by too fast and I wanted an hour with them before we went our separate ways for the day. An hour every morning to connect with my children and hopefully give them what I got from my mother, a love of reading and memories I'd taken into adulthood.

So, every morning I made them breakfast and for two years, I read to them before school. We read everything. King Kong, 1776, Christine and Dead Beat. Though you'd think I was torturing them at the time, they later told me they enjoyed the stories and the one novel that really got their attention was Jim's. It's quite an accomplishment to snag a teenager's attention for a micro-second let alone an hour every morning for a month. With all the high tech gadgets that could lure them away, they always came to breakfast to hear what would happen to Harry next. They weren't the only ones. I was hooked from the first paragraph. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go to the book store, pick up Jim Butcher's Dead beat and open to the first page. If you don't walk out with a novel or two of his, I'll be surprised.

That being said, Jim's got a new book out this month and in celebration of Chicago's finest paranormal gumshoe I bring you, 12 Reasons to read Jim Butcher.
                                  1. Storm Front

2. Fool Moon











3. Grave Peril











4. Summer Knight












5. Death Masks











6. Blood Rites











7. Dead Beat











8. Proven Guilty











9. White Night











10. Small Favor











11. Turn Coat











12. Changes
The graphics on the cover tell us this has something to do with the Mayan. What’s not to love. If you haven’t read the Dresden Files, I highly recommend you give them a try. Harry Dresden’s tongue and cheek humor is awesome and Jim's world building is fantastic.

Congrats on your latest release, Jim. Can’t wait to get my copy.

D.L. Jackson