beyondjenna is our lucky winner.
Please contact Sara at: brookesofbooks at gmail dot com, and she will forward you e-copy of Midnight's Ghost.
Make sure to remove the spaces and change "at" to @ and "dot" to .
Ever vigilant of spy bots.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
An interview with author Sara Brookes
Sara, please tell us about yourself.
Come to think of I'm actually quite boring. I spent vast amounts of time sitting in front of a computer screen both at my day job and when I'm writing.
Why do you write?
The short answer: I must. The long answer: It's something I have to do because I feel lost otherwise.
What were your early influences in writing?
My favorite book, to this day, is Charlotte's Web by E B White. That was probably the first time I'd read a book and fell completely in love with the style of writing instead of just the story. I started reading Stephen King when I was 15/16 and there was something about the intricacy of his stories and characters that I love as well. It's two vast ends of the spectrum, but to this day, both of their books grace my bookshelves and are things I can read over and over and never get bored with.
When did you know you wanted to be an author?
I've always written, but it was only in the past few years that I decided to take it further and see if a publisher would be interested in something I'd written.
What kinds of research do you do for your work?
It depends on what I'm writing at the time. With Flash of Dark taking place in Cincinnati - a city I've never been to - I spent a lot of time studying maps and satellite images (from Google Earth) to get a lay of things. I was already familiar with vampire lore and Fae myths, so adding my own spin on those was the easy part. With Midnight's Ghost, the research was different. Most of that knowledge I already possessed, so it was creating my own world with it. The sci-fi was actually easier because I was only limited by my imagination as far as worldbuilding went. The research there was coming up with names for things that I wanted to still be pronouncable to readers.
What are you favorite scenes to write?
Any scene where the words just flow.
Do you have a favorite character?
No one character stands out for me - they each have their quirks and pesonalities that I find interesting. I like complicated and flawed characters and probably the one that is the most flawed is Wallace, from Midnight's Ghost. He made a choice to do something and has never apologized for it and still refuses to in fact. He knows what he did is wrong and stands up for the punishment given to him because of that choice. He's a very good example of an anti-hero.
Do you have any favorite lines in your novels?
Oh a bunch, but I'll narrow it down a bit:
“You may have asked yourself if you could, but did it ever occur to you to ask yourself if you should?” - Stark, Flash of Dark
“What would you do if I kissed you right now, Taran? If I didn’t stop with just a simple kiss? If I put your legs around my hips, opening you so that I slid inside you in one mind-numbing thrust? Would you still tell me then you’ve moved on, that you feel nothing for me anymore or would your voice resonate off the walls when you screamed my name as you came?” - Wallace, Midnight's Ghost
“He breaks your heart, I get to disembowel him, tear him limb from limb and personally drop his ashes in the ocean after I light him on fire. No questions asked and I’m not going to ask for your permission. Got it?” - Quinn, Blood Fever
What are the hardest scenes to write?
I hear most people answer "sex scenes" or "action scenes" in the answer to this question but those are actually the easiest for me. The hardest for me really isn't a scene per say, but anytime scent is involved. Since one of my series is vampires with heightened senese of smell, it makes it even harder. Not having a sense of smell came in handy when I used to change dirty diaper - not so much as a writer trying to describe scents to readers when she has no idea what they smell like. Family is invaluable with that!
Please, tell us about your books.
Available Now with Liquid Silver Books:
Flash of Dark (Book 1 of the Rebirth Series) http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com/books/flashofdark.htm
There’s trouble brewing on the horizon. Ana – a member of the immortal Fae – unknowingly discovers a secret that could potentially alter the calm life she has carefully built around her. Toss in a few murders, a best friend who is a vampire and a human male fervently pursuing her and that toxic touch she possesses could be the least of her worries.
Excerpt:
“You’re quite possibly the only person I know who wanted to turn their back on something that could prove pleasurable. I understand your reasoning, but it was unfounded and unnecessary.” His mouth moved over my fingers, skimming against my knuckles as he tugged lightly in an effort to pull me closer. Food was obviously the last thing on his mind.
I shook my head, pulling my hand away so that we could continue eating and talking. As much as he thought that this was what he needed, I really wanted to spend some time talking. Possibly just to prove to myself that this wasn’t just a physical thing. Okay, so not only a physical thing. The sex had been too good to deny that. He let his fork dangle between his fingers as he watched me eat. “What?” I finally asked, tired of the audience.
“Nothing, just enjoying the scenery,” he said casually.
I snorted. “I can think of far more interesting subjects. Since I’m looking for a topic change anyway—I had a visit the other day at the club from our friendly homicide cop.” Better that I be the one to tell him before someone else did, especially since it was obvious we’d be spending more time together.
His interest in me temporarily forgotten, he asked with his usual flair for words. “Oh yeah? What did the upstanding Lieutenant Asshole have to say?”
We had spoken about the first visit briefly, but we had both been too preoccupied at the time to pay more than the barest of passing interest. “He was questioning me about another murder that took place in the same area as the first one. Same method, too.” I played a little with the noodles on my plate.
“Why would he come to see you again?” Stark’s eyes narrowed at me. He took a few swallows of wine and rested his hand on the stem as we talked.
And here came the part I hadn’t told him about. “I was seen tossing the victim out of my club earlier that night for roughing up his girlfriend.”
He swore under his breath. “So that’s what Lucas was referring to.”
“Lucas? You’ve talked to him?” I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed by this because Lucas hadn’t even talked to me and here he was talking to Stark. So much for the rationale of telling him before he heard it elsewhere. Lucas had already beaten me to the punch.
“Yes. I’ve talked to him. He contacted me a few days ago, told me that I needed to keep an eye on you. Make sure you didn’t go anywhere by yourself. Which, I completely agree with, by the way.” He added that last bit before I could open my mouth to respond.
“Why? So, some psycho is tearing apart victims near my club? This is the city, murder happens all the time.” I was trying to keep things light and here he was making me feel like I was child who wasn’t allowed out of the house by herself. The two of them ganging up on me was getting really old, really fast.
He had apparently been expecting my reply because he shot back with sarcasm of his own. “So people you personally throw out of your club regularly end up dead?”
Something about the tone of his voice caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. Why had he suddenly gotten so possessive? A visit or two from a cop was no cause to garner a reaction like this. A thought occurred to me then. “What is it that you’re worried about, Stark? How you’ll appear to the press when it gets out that the woman you’re screwing is a possible suspect in two bloody murders? Afraid to have your image tarnished by being linked to me?” The tone of my voice was snide and unmistakable. I wasn’t in the mood to be cosseted by him—or anyone for that matter.
I watched as he struggled to contain his temper. “I’ve done a damn good job of tarnishing it myself without you to help, Ana. My concern is for you.”
“Are you worried that it really was me? That I really killed those two men?” If so, then I seriously needed to recheck my psycho meter.
“Did you know either of the victims, Ana?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I did.”
Upcoming Release (Available May 10th from Liquid Silver Books):
Midnight's Ghost (Star Runner Saga)
The timeline is excruciating. Taran has three days to get her former lover – whom she’s barely speaking to – and the mysterious teenager she knows nothing about from one planet to another. Given the fact her ship, Eidolon, is the fastest in the star runner fleet, Taran knows she can make the run in the time Wallace has allotted. As the best – and only – female pilot, she’s got something to prove.
As if things weren’t complicated enough, Wallace, and the teenager he has in tow, are both escapees from the harshest prison facility in seven galaxies. Not only is Taran putting her career on the line, she’s got the Intergalactic Patrol hot on her heels. It isn’t long before unresolved feelings and tempers flare to life again and Taran is left second-guessing her decision of putting everything she stands for on the line.
Her determination may just cost her everything.
One man who feels no remorse for a crime he committed and one woman pilot determined to fulfill her promise equal one impossible mission.
Excerpt:
I released my grip and as he fell to the side, I drew myself up to my full height so I was looking down at him. He panted as he tried to draw a full breath and groped out with a hand, searching for something to anchor himself to. His eyes were on mine and I could tell from the far away glazed look he was somewhere else. Unfortunately, his mind had been weaker that I expected, and for a moment, I debated sticking around to see if he was alright.
I heard the hiss and pop of a blaster and looked up in time to see the vivid streak of blue light fly past me before it exploded into Dalen’s chest. Blood, guts and other things I didn’t want to think about flew through the air and the crowd who had gathered around to watch the fight scattered.
Wiping the purple blood from my face, I turned to see who was responsible for the killing shot. As the tallest of the remaining group of onlookers, he was the easiest to find. He shot a casual smile in my direction as he flipped his shirt over the illegal weapon he was sliding into the waistband of his pants. My brain blared a warning and my feet started moving before I was even aware of it.
I ran like the wind.
I knew I needed to get away because he was the last person I wanted to see, especially right now. There was a loud crash followed by a riot of curses behind me, but I knew I would waste precious seconds if I looked over my shoulder to see what the commotion was.
“Reece, fire up the engines. I’m coming in hot and heavy,” I shouted into my holowatch as I pushed my way through the burgeoning crowds that were suddenly filling up the market alleys.
Didn’t these people have jobs to go to?
“Stirring up the natives again I see, Captain.”
“Just do it, dammit.” I flicked off the open line with my thumb and slid the glove I removed earlier back on my hand as I decided to risk a glance over my shoulder to ensure I still held the advantage.
My pursuer was weaving his way expertly though the mingling crowd and he was making far less of a disturbance doing so. Even at this distance, I could see one side of his mouth was quirked up in a lopsided grin.
Damn, he was actually enjoying this.
My attention momentarily distracted, I ran full tilt into a trader’s cart and watched the horizon tilt wildly as I went head over heels. For the second time today, I was fighting for air as I stared at the dull cerulean sky. A few careful blinks assured me the dimming light was because of the triple sunset and not my spinning equilibrium.
My pursuer’s face came into view overhead with a smile so wide it nearly split his face in two. Leave it to Wallace to find pleasure in tormenting me.
“Going somewhere?” The smug expression on his face made me want to reach up and slap it to the next galaxy. He would probably have some sick fascination about seeing my red hand print there later as it marked his perfectly sculpted jaw and decided against it.
“Stuff it, Wallace,” I spat out and winced at the level of effort it took to do so. With the combination of the fight with Dalen and the tumble I had just taken, everything hurt. I wasn’t too proud to admit that either. What I was too proud to do was take the hand Wallace was offering me. I rolled away from his extended hand, purposefully refusing his gesture as I gathered the effort needed to push myself up to stand.
A frown darkened his features and his hand fell uselessly to his side as he watched me. Based on our history, he had known that I wouldn’t take his hand or accept his assistance, but that didn’t mean it stopped him from offering. A few years ago, I would have taken it without hesitation.
My holowatch chimed, a signal Reece was trying to contact me. I sighed heavily and tapped the acknowledgment button. “Power down, Reece.”
Do you have a writing tip to share?
Sure do - let yourself suck. I'm a huge believer in this one. Too often times writers give up simply because they can't get it right the first time. I know, I was one of those. Once I started giving myself permission to suck, I realized I could always go back and fix it later. What I couldn't do, however, is go back and fix what didn't exist.
Sara, thank you for interviewing with Para-Fanatics. It's been a pleasure having you. To the readers, I hope you all will take a chance with this new author and give her books a read. You won't regret it.
Best,
D.L. Jackson
Sunday, May 9, 2010
And the winner is....
Thanks to all for leaving a comment and checking out Barbara's interview. Now it's time to announce our winner.
*drum roll*
The winner of Power of Love is--Ilona.
*\0/* *\0/* *\0/*
Please contact Barbara at bjelsborg @ googlemail.com (deleting any spaces), with your email address and she will forward the e-novel.
What's next? An interview with Sara Brookes. She's got a new release on May 10th and she's graciously agreed to give away a copy to one lucky reader of the blog.
So, be sure to stop by May 10th for a chance to win an e-copy of her latest release, Midnight's Ghost.
Best,
Dawn
*drum roll*
The winner of Power of Love is--Ilona.
*\0/* *\0/* *\0/*
Please contact Barbara at bjelsborg @ googlemail.com (deleting any spaces), with your email address and she will forward the e-novel.
What's next? An interview with Sara Brookes. She's got a new release on May 10th and she's graciously agreed to give away a copy to one lucky reader of the blog.
So, be sure to stop by May 10th for a chance to win an e-copy of her latest release, Midnight's Ghost.
Best,
Dawn
Saturday, May 1, 2010
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 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.....
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
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?
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!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Meet Arlene Webb and receive a chance to win a copy of Eostre's Hare
Monday, April 5, 2010
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.
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.
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