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My day, so far… (Contest–2 Winners!)
Friday, January 15th, 2021

UPDATE: The two winners are…Savonna and Daphne Cochran!
*~*~*

Yes, I spent two hours in a dentist’s chair this morning. Why? I broke a tooth biting into a piece of Mentos gum on Monday. Yup. Gum. Weirdest sensation ever. The gum’s hard shell was surprisingly crunchy. It took me a minute to figure out why, but then my tongue touched the inside of a tooth that was no longer there. My first words after I made the discovery? Fuckety-fuck-fuck-fuck! I’m not polite when I’m pissed.

The doctor saw me that afternoon then told me, “Want the good news? I don’t have to pull your tooth.” The bad news was I would need a crown. And without dental insurance, you know I’m out a chunk of change. 🙁 They scheduled me to come in this morning to ground down what was left of my tooth and give me a temporary crown until the permanent one arrives around February 1st.  So, I’m back home with half a numbed mouth having to slurp my coffee because I can’t feel the lip of the cup. (Dang, I’m whining, aren’t I?)

Now, I don’t hate going to the dentist. I’m not afraid, even when he pulls out that huge-ass needle (as he did today to numb by mouth). I was on a deadline this week to finish a book—which I did yesterday. I was only worried about how much time my visits were going to consume. But I did pass a woman on her way back to an examination room who looked about ready to pass out. So, I do know a trip to the dentist can be traumatizing to some.

My question to you for a chance to win your choice of a download of a book from my backlist is…are you chill with your dentist visits or are you like the poor woman who looked like she was walking to her death? I’ll choose two winners!

Pamela K. Kinney: Ghost Stories for That Winter Chill
Thursday, January 14th, 2021

It is cold, and winter is here. You’re mostly stuck indoors because it’s warmer. So, what do you do? Why read, of course! It’s an excellent time to catch up on all those books you received for Christmas. It’s the most wonderful time of the year to read some scary ghost stories.

Wait a moment; you are saying Halloween is long past, and Christmas was last month. It’s chilling, dreary weather, maybe even it snowed where you lived last night, so you want to read something light and fun. What better time for spooky tales, especially those even happening during the winter season in the story itself?

Humans have always sought out horror stories: reading, writing, and watching horror is an entirely rational response to the world. By the end of a book or movie, the crisis will be over in some way, and the danger will have passed: this applies, of course, to fiction, that when the stakes are at their highest, the catharsis is all the more wonderful. Winter horror reminds you that spring will arrive.

It is not about escaping reality but raising the stakes on the fear by adding a dash of a monster, ghosts, or even a serial killer, and then seeing what happens to the characters in wintry conditions that will make things even worse. Most books or stories end happily for the heroes unless there is a sequel in the works. And don’t worry—you are safe and warm, in your home. Right? Wait a moment! Do you hear that?

Some books you might like to check out for that wintertime reading…

The Shining by Stephen King: This is a great book to read. Stephan King is a master of his characters and storytelling. Jack, Wendy, and their son, Danny Torrance, move to the remote Overlook Hotel for the winter as caretakers. For the next few months, Jack, a recovering alcoholic, spirals into murderous insanity. Then there are the ghosts, too. Although the hotel is nominally the malevolent force in this story, for me, it comes down to Jack Torrance as, like a Shakespearean tragic hero, he unravels from within himself. To quote the book: “Monsters are real. Ghosts are too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win.”

The Turn of the Screw by Henry James:  It might not be winter as the season in this masterful classic ghost story novella from 1898, and yet the story can still chill a reader from 2021.  Characters like a man called Douglas relates the story of an unnamed governess who takes a job at Bly to look after two seemingly angelic children on behalf of their uncle, whose only stipulation is that she must never contact him. Miles, the little boy, arrives home from boarding school having been expelled for unknown reasons. Flora, the girl, has an ‘extraordinary charm’, but the governess becomes entirely besotted with Miles. When the governess sees the ghosts of both Quint, a former worker, and Miss Jessell, the former governess, things begin to spiral out of control. Are the spirits truly there? Is the governess to be trusted? Read the book and find out.

The Terror by Dan Simmons: It is a fictionalized account of Captain Sir John Franklin’s lost expedition of HMS Erebus and HMS Terror to the Arctic, in 1845–1848, to locate the Northwest Passage. The ship enters a second summer in the Arctic Circle without a thaw, and they become stranded in a nightmarish landscape of encroaching ice and darkness. Endlessly cold, with diminishing rations, 126 men fight to survive with poisonous food, a dwindling supply of coal, and ships buckling in the grip of crushing ice. But their real enemy is far more terrifying. There is something out there in the frigid darkness: an unseen predator stalking their ship, a monstrous terror always clawing to get in.

Snowblind by Christopher Golden: Twelve years ago, the small town of Coventry, Massachusetts, was in the grasp of a fierce winter, then came the Great Storm. It hit hard. Not everyone saw the spring. Today the families, friends, and lovers of the victims are still haunted by the ghosts of those they lost so suddenly. If only they could see them one more time, hold them close, tell them they love them. When a new storm strikes, it doesn’t just bring snow and ice; it brings the people of Coventry exactly what they’ve wished for, plus the realization that their nightmare is only beginning.

Who Goes There by John W. Campbell: This science fiction horror novella by American writer John W. Campbell Jr., written under the pen name Don A. Stuart, was first published in the August 1938 issue of Astounding Science Fiction. It formed the basis for The Thing movies. You can find this at Amazon, even as a free PDF, and I know a current publisher who got the original version, which had more to the story and published it in its entirety.

That is Frozen Hell: The Book That Inspired The Thing: Recently discovered among Campbell’s papers, this version adds another 45 pages to the story. It also includes a Preface by Alec Nevala-Lee and an Introduction by Robert Silverberg.

A group of scientific researchers, isolated in Antarctica by the nearly-ended winter, discover an alien spaceship buried in the ice, where it crashed twenty million years before. Thawing revives the alien pilot of the ship. This being can assume the shape, memories, and personality of any living thing it devours while maintaining its original body mass for further reproduction. And once it does, who is really the alien and who is the real person, as they must stop it from getting out of Antarctica.

*~*~*

Pamela K. Kinney
Journey to worlds of fantasy, beyond the stars, and into the vortex of terror with the written word of Pamela K. Kinney.

Read Pamela Kinney!

And if you are in the mood for more reading, check out my latest nonfiction regional ghost book, Haunted Surry to Suffolk: Spooky Locations Along Routes 10 and 460 . Available in both Kindle and Paperback, it also has ghostly and regular images.

Take a journey along Virginia’s scenic Routes 10 and 460 eastbound to enjoy the lovely countryside and metropolises that spread around these two roads. Most of all, discover that some historical houses, plantations, battlefields, parks, and even the modern cities, have more than touristy knickknacks, ham, and peanuts to offer. Many have ghosts! Bacon’s Castle has spirits haunting it since the 1600s. Stay in a cabin overnight at Chippokes Plantation State Park and you might find you have a spectral bedfellow. The city of Smithfield has more to offer than the world’s oldest ham; it also has some very old phantoms still stalking its buildings. Take a ghost tour of Suffolk and see why the biggest little city is also one of the spookiest. Discover the myths and legends of the Great Dismal Swamp and see what phantoms are still haunting the wildlife refuge. And if that’s not enough, Bigfoot and UFOs are part of the paranormal scenery. These and other areas of southeastern Virginia are teeming with ghosts, Sasquatch, UFOs, and monsters. See what awaits you along 460 south and 10. No matter which road you take, the phantoms can’t wait to SCARE you a good time.

Get your copy here!

And for fiction for a winter night, HWA Poetry Showcase Volume VIIIt is an anthology, not with short stories, but dark poetry that tells terrifying stories. Includes my Lovecraftian horror poem, “Dementia.” It is available in both Kindle and paperback.

 

The Horror Writers Associations presents their seventh annual Poetry Showcase, featuring the best in never-before-published dark verse. Edited by Stephanie M. Wytovich, this year’s featured poets are K. P. Kulski, Sarah Read, and Sara Tantlinger, plus dozens of poems from the talented members of the Horror Writers Association.

Get your copy here!

About Pamela K. Kinney

Author Pamela K. Kinney gave up long ago trying not to listen to the voices in her head and has written award-winning, bestselling horror, fantasy, science fiction, poetry, along with nonfiction ghost books ever since. Three of her nonfiction ghost books garnered Library of Virginia nominations. Her third ghost book, Virginia’s Haunted Historic Triangle: Williamsburg, Yorktown, Jamestown, and Other Haunted Locations, had reached a second printing and is now a 2nd edition with extra new stories and ten new ghostly images added, plus a new ghost book, Haunted Surry to Suffolk: Spooky Takes Along Routes 10 and 460 released in 2020 from Anubis Press. Her horror short story, “Bottled Spirits,” was runner-up for the 2013 WSFA Small Press Award and is considered one of the seven best genre short fiction for that year. Her latest novel was an urban fantasy, How the Vortex Changed My Life. In 2019, her science fiction novella, Maverick Heart, released from Dreampunk Press, along with a horror story, “By Midnight,”  in the Christmas horror and fantasy anthology, Christmas Lites IX, and a nonfiction story, “The Haunted Cavalier Hotel,” in the paranormal nonfiction anthology, Handbook for the Dead.  Five micro horror stories of hers in the anthology,  Nano Nightmares, a horror short story, “Hunting the Goatman,” was included in the anthology, Retro Horror, plus a horror short story, “A Trick, No Treat,” plus three horror poems of hers, were included in Siren Call Publications’ Halloween issue, released October 2020. She has a poem, “Dementia,” accepted for Horror Writers Association’s horror poetry anthology, HWA Poetry Showcase, Vol. VII.  Of course, she is working on various horror and fantasy short stories and has finished a supernatural horror novel and is also working on a nonfiction book, Werewolves, Dogmen, and Other Shapeshifters Stalking America, for Anubis Press.

Pamela and her husband live with one crazy black cat (who thinks she should take precedence over her mistress’s writing most days). Along with writing, Pamela has acted on stage and film and investigates the paranormal for episodes of Paranormal World Seekers for AVA Productions. She is a member of both Horror Writers Association and Virginia Writers Club. You can learn more about Pamela K. Kinney at https://www.PamelaKKinney.com.

Monica Corwin: The Pressure of A Series End (FREE BOOK and Excerpt)
Wednesday, January 13th, 2021

First, I’m going to spill the tea on myself. I published On a Red Horse, the first book in my Paranormal Romance Series titled Revelations, back in 2015. On a Pale Horse, the fourth and final book in the series, just released here in 2021. For a traditional publication this schedule wouldn’t be so uncommon…but for the indie market where readers value quicker turn out from their favorite authors, it’s ages.

I’d like to say I don’t know what happened to make me stall out so hard on OAPH, but I found the last book in the series to hold so much pressure. It started by re-reading the other books and marking them up by category (plot loops I needed to close, random character descriptions I’d forgotten) and by the time I sat down to work on OAPH I sort of froze up. Information overload. Sadly, a common occurrence with ADHD suffering folks like myself.

I’d put so much pressure on finishing the book, on getting it done, that I tricked my brain into thinking it was a much more momentous task than it really turned out to be. Will my readers love the end? Dang I hope so. Will this happen to me again? Probably. Can I overcome it? Absolutely.

We live in unprecedented times right now. No matter where you stand in the world things are not running at your usual normal. So I wanted to take a tiny moment to give you permission to extend yourself some grace. Give yourself a hug, make yourself some tea, and know that when accomplishing something is difficult, take a minute and you’ll figure it out.

And cue segue into talking about OAPH. In this book, Hades (yes that one you are thinking of) wants to move his relationship to the next level with his long-time partner, Death (the horseman of the apocalypse – but she’s a lady). So, against a backdrop of lots of end of the world shenanigans, Hades enlists the help of Death’s (Cloris’s) ex-girlfriend, Persephone. And obviously, sparks fly all around.

See what I did there…I needed to finish my book…Hades needed to finish er…well…anyway.

Here’s a bit of an excerpt for you to try out…

Hades made coffee with shaking hands. They quaked so hard; he had to press them into the cold granite countertop to steady himself. He would have finished it with Cloris last night. He wanted to. He needed her in a way he couldn’t express. And yet, she still held back, still feared hurting him, or that he might equate her with Hel. He swallowed the flash of images that rose to his mind at the thought of Hel’s name and focused intently on making his espresso.

He hadn’t been able to stop the flashbacks, but he was learning to deal with them. A couple years ago, he even started therapy, but not a soul knew that other than his therapist. They’d been working through his imprisonment. Obviously, he’d changed the story for a human audience, and it had been helping. Now he couldn’t figure out how to convince Cloris he was ready for her. And he feared making her wait a thousand years for him had threatened whatever future they might have together.

Moments like this made him want to be human.

People’s reactions to him unsettled him, and Cloris had stopped reacting to him within weeks of them being locked together as horseman and seal. So, he could barely get a read on her in any situation. Hell, she could have stopped wanting him ages ago and simply maintained a façade to avoid conflict. Cloris would fight when it came down to it, but she did not enjoy conflict. If Cloris got involved, it would be to put a stop to whatever was going on.

Charon, the middle-aged, hulking former boatman, shuffled into the kitchen in his bunny slippers, and Hades handed him a mug. “I already made it,” he said, pointing to the pot.

Charon narrowed his eyes at him

“What? I can make coffee,” Hades said in a huff.

The man stood and waited, and when Hades poured the coffee, Char gave a satisfied nod before wandering away. Charon had nowhere to go once the Underworld changed into Hel’s realm. He considered himself a servant of Cloris and Hades, but they never saw him that way. Occasionally, he’d play security at the club since his shoulders were the width of most doorframes and his height unsettled most. Other than that, they left him to his devices, which included Netflix binges of Gilmore Girls and reading Manga.

It was a simple arrangement. Cloris entered the kitchen past Charon and squeezed his arm on the way. She stopped dead in front of Hades and eyed his hand holding the coffeepot.

“Did you make that or did Charon?”

Hades suspected they didn’t like his coffee. “Charon did.”

She raised one perfect eyebrow, calling him out on the lie without a word.

“Fine. I did. What’s wrong with my coffee?”

“Nothing at all, My Love.” She grabbed his mug off the counter and took a sip. “One just needs to brace for impact when drinking it.”

*~*~*

The Revelations Series is now complete and Books One through Three are all on sale until the end of the week. The first book is FREE!

✨ Book One ✨ On a Red Horse
https://amzn.to/2MTzGcZ
Free this week only!

✨Book Two ✨ On a White Horse
https://amzn.to/2MOBP9M
$0.99 this week only!

✨Book Three ✨ On a Black Horse
https://amzn.to/3oCpXG9
$0.99 this week only!

✨Book Four ✨ On a Pale Horse
https://amzn.to/3qcHXqP
BRAND NEW RELEASE!

If you want to keep on top of sales and information you can follow me on Facecbook at https://www.facebook.com/monicacorwin , Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/rosetyper9 , or Twitter at https://www.twitter.com/monica_corwin

Thank you and don’t forget to take a moment to breathe!

Insomnia and Blasted Muses! (Contest)
Tuesday, January 12th, 2021

UPDATE: The winner is…Roberta!
*~*~*

I’ve been to many psychics over the years, and on several occasions, I’ve been told I have three muses—one a very old man, and the other two frisky females. I’m not sure which one woke me up at 3:15 from a great, dead sleep with the solution to my book story problem—the “who done it” and the ending.

Once up, I didn’t fight them (although I think it was just the grumpy old man). I quickly jotted down the notes in my head then sat at my desk and painted one very ugly postcard, and this one, which I love…

Over the years, I’ve decided insomnia’s not a horrible thing if I don’t fight it. Forcing myself to remain in bed and counting sheep or listening to fake rain falling on tin roofs only annoys me more. So, I take advantage of the quiet and do whatever I want. Sometimes, I actually catch myself yawning and head back to bed.  Sometimes, like this morning, I have kids to wake up for online class, so I’ll be up all day. Hopefully, I’ll be plenty tired tonight and the muses won’t be able to pry me from bed again.

So, how about you? Do you battle insomnia? Have you figured out what works for you in coping with the problem? Comment for a chance to win a free book—winner’s choice from my backlist!

 

Desiree Holt: Rawhide: Cut the Cards (Excerpt)
Monday, January 11th, 2021

Rawhide: Cut the Cards

It’s a card game like you’ve never played before!
Rawhide is back!

Have you been missing the trips to Rawhide, the ultra-exclusive BDSM club on the northwest side of San Antonio, Texas? Well, it’s time for another trip, and this one has a few twists. First of all, the club has a new Dungeon Master. His name is Reulas, and he runs a strict establishment. Nothing is barred as long as you follow the rules. Secondly, he has sanctioned the introduction of a new card game called “Cut the Cards.” Each card pictures some form of BDSM activity. The sub cuts the cards then draws a certain number. Any cards that picture acceptable activities are set to the side; those that are not are replaced in the deck. After the sub has made her/his choices, then the Mistress or Master makes their choices and…the game is on!

Rawhide: Ace in the Hole

Cut the Cards
Kelly LeBlanc was hot and aroused at being selected as part of a demonstration for Rawhide’s members and guests. A card game for sex? What fun! But then she meets the Dom, Tanner Sloat, and finds all her wildest fantasies are about to come true.

Blackjack
He was everything Nia March ever dreamed about in a Master. As he takes her to levels higher than she’s even been, touching something deep inside her, she wonders if she can protect her heart.

Texas Hold ‘Em
Sage Drummond thought she’d never recover from the effects of a relationship filled with cruelty, but she craved the role of sub. When she tentatively dips her toe in the waters at Rawhide, the last thing she expects to find is a Master who will satisfy her needs as well as heal her heart. Can it last?

Dealer’s Choice
Cade Sullivan was one of the most in-demand Doms until a tragedy sent him hiding from the world and out of the D/s life. Working at Rawhide gives Fiona Wilder the urge to try the D/s life. Can she be the key to help Cade forget the past and build a life with a sub that is all his?

Two of a Kind
They each bring their baggage to a night at Rawhide that is supposed to be nothing but fun—a night of intense D/s play. Neither is prepared for the intense connection they make or how it will change their lives.

Get your copy of Rawhide: Ace in the Hole here!

And a snippet from Cut the Cards

Tanner Sloat was everything subs imagined Doms to be, power flowing from his body. It was hard to ignore the bulge at his crotch, and it had cream flooding the tiny crotch of her thong at the sight of it. Her nipples hardened, poking into the soft material of her halter. At once, she imagined herself on her knees in front of him, his cock on her tongue, her hands squeezing his balls. Would he spank her if he thought her performance lacking?

Oh, yes! Please!

She was instantly even more wet and needy, and he hadn’t even said hello to her yet.

When she looked up at Tanner, a tiny knowing smile flirted with the corners of his mouth and sexual hunger flared in his eyes. He raked his gaze over her slowly, taking in every inch of her. Now she knew what the phrase “undressing someone with his eyes” meant, because that was exactly how she felt. At that moment, if he’d told her to strip naked, get down on her hands and knees, and let him fuck her ass, she’d have done it without a moment’s hesitation.

Holy shit!

She swallowed and curved her mouth in a smile. “Welcome to Rawhide.”

He dipped his head once. “I can see you’re everything Reulas said you were.”

And exactly what was that?

“Tanner is just back from a tour of duty as a member of a Delta Force team,” Reulas explained.

Ooo-kay. So that explained the ripped body. She wondered if he had any interesting scars. Without realizing it, Kelly licked her lips.

“I picked up a little game while I was in…a different country,” Tanner said. “When I mentioned it to Reulas, it interested him. He suggested giving a little presentation to the members.” His eyes looked her over again. “From everything he told me, I thought you would be an excellent choice for a game partner. You enjoy exhibitionism, right?”

Did a bank have money? Heat sizzled through her at the idea of performing before this crowd with this highly sexual man.

“I do,” she answered. “Can you tell me what the game is about?”

He held out a deck of cards. “Take a look at these. The idea is each partner goes through the deck and removes any position or activity that they absolutely will not do. Then they go through them one at a time.”

“Of course, no one expects to complete the entire selection in one session,” Reulas added. “So each partner picks his or her top three and then they begin.”

Kelly cocked an eyebrow at him. “Your email sounded intriguing, and everyone is always looking for something new. I’m sure that’s why there’s such a big crowd tonight.”

Reulas nodded. “If I’d told them you were going to be part of the performance, we’d have been so crowded the fire marshal might have shut us down.”

“Reulas tells me you are a particular favorite.” Tanner’s voice rolled over her nerves like the electric wand she loved so much, sending sparks along the surface of her skin.

“He’s very kind. But I do my best to please.”

“As a good sub should.” He gave her a penetrating look that pierced all the way to her pussy. Her inner walls clenched, and she had to resist the urge to squeeze her thighs together.

“Why don’t the two of you step into the little alcove over there?” Reulas pointed. “You can select your cards. When you’re ready, I’ll get everyone’s attention and announce the beginning of the performance.”

*~*~*

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Life in the Devlin House (Contest)
Sunday, January 10th, 2021

UPDATE: The winner is…Jeanine Lesperance!
*~*~*

Just a quick note about what this day means to me, and then I’ll move on. One year ago today, my mom passed away. She was at home, being cared for by my dd and myself because she wanted to be home until the end and knew she wasn’t going to beat her pancreatic cancer. I’d just walked away to get a washcloth to clean her face and returned. I began gently cleaning her face, talking to her, telling her that my sister was nearly there, hold on, when I realized she wasn’t breathing. One minute later, my sister arrived, too late to tell her goodbye. It was such a sad, sad day, but the only thing I can be thankful for is that she didn’t live to see what was to come just two months later. She left in peace.

So, here we are…how many months in? We cope. We also find joy. Little things matter more. My 16-year-old granddaughter has become our hairstylist. She watched YouTube videos so she could cut our hair. Here she is giving her 7-year-old sister a trim last night.

And isn’t she lovely? All that lovely strawberry-blond hair. She’s going to be a redhead like her mama.

We mostly stick close to home. Get our groceries delivered curbside, pick up our takeout masked. The one place we frequent, because it’s a big open, well-ventilated warehouse is our local flea market. We make that an event. See the treasures we found yesterday?

My mother had a collection of that old-fashioned, mid-century white Corning Ware with the blue flowers. We’ve been slowly adding pieces (it’s very collectible!). We paid $6 for two pieces, now we’ll have to hunt down lids on eBay (something else we enjoy—the hunt!). My dd got rid of all our plastic storage dishes and mixing bowls, and we’re replacing them with midcentury Pyrex (also, very collectible!). That brown set with the mushrooms we got for $40. If you think that’s insane, see how much it goes for on eBay! See the bent glass serving tray? It’s midcentury as well by George Briard ($10).

I added some odd bits to our haul—the yellow tin ($1) that I intend to cut up for tin jewelry, the small wood inlay picture frame ($1.50) that I’ll fill with a painting, the ceramic disk with raised lettering depicting the Cherokee alphabet ($6), which I will use to set my brush pot on for use on my art table, and I think I’ll press it against a gel plate covered in paint for background marks. See the yellow swan? It arrived in the mail today, so I added it to the display. I used a picture of it for the last jigsaw puzzle I posted.

So, we craft and “hunt” and have family movie nights. We’re fortunate, and we know it, because we aren’t hurting for money or searching for food banks. This situation isn’t normal, but the kids are happy, learning to cook and cut hair, and we have a little farm of animals they care for. We’re busy and not feeling especially stressed out about the restrictions. My police officer SIL got the vaccine this week, which is a huge relief. Hopefully, sometime this year, the rest of us will get it, too. We have lots to look forward to—warmer weather, swimming this summer, working on flower beds. We spend evenings talking about the trips we want to make to familiar haunts once it’s safe—Beale Street in Memphis, New Orleans.

We’re enjoying simple pleasures. Grateful we’ve, so far, dodged the virus while missing my parents and grandmother, who left us just before all this hit. We are finding things to be happy about and grateful for during this long-ass pandemic.

I’d love to hear how y’all are coping and whether the vaccine is headed your way soon. What plans do you have for when we get back to something approaching “normal” again. Comment for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card.

What’s coming on January 19th! (Excerpt)
Saturday, January 9th, 2021

I loved writing my Montana Bounty Hunters series, and I’m really enjoying “meeting” the hunters and townsfolk in my new spinoff series, Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, Montana. The stories are all fun. The heroes are hot and very physically capable (even Brian, folks!). The heroines are all strong, smart, and sassy. And their adventures are often so dang funny. I love getting to “live” inside this world while I write, and it’s very, very gratifying that so many of you love these stories, too. It’s a good thing because I’ll be writing them for a long time.

Book #2 of the series, Preacher, releases on January 19th! I’m still putting the finishing touches on the book. Preacher and Laura have been so much fun to write. And yes, they fall for each other really fast. Write what you know is what they tell authors to do, and since, in my life, I only ever fell in love really, really fast, I write from a place of knowing what that’s like. No long buildup from friendship to happy ever after. No. Not for me. It’s insta-lust until one or the other realizes they really “like” being with that other person. Plus, dangerous situations can force people to have to learn to trust each other quickly. Et  voilà! Love happens.

I’ve included the opening of the story here for you to enjoy, just so you can meet more of the hunters in this series and get a taste for the kind of job they do. There are mentions of the cable TV show the original bounty hunters cast do and “Bounty Hunter Barbie” who is Lacey Jones and a fan favorite from the original series, too. Lacey and her man Dagger are in Dead Horse for a while until Cage (the hero from the first book) staffs up his office. I swear you don’t have to read the other books to figure out who’s who!

Buckle up—and pre-order your copy now! The book will be available only on Amazon, at first, and it’ll be FREE in KU. Print will come shortly afterward.

Preacher

Preacher

An ex-Delta Force soldier, now Montana Bounty Hunter, finds himself bemused as he slips naturally into protector-mode when a small-town dessert chef is threatened by mysterious attacks.

Pre-order your copy now!

From the opening of Preacher

“Preacher, got my eyes on the back door.”

Dylan “Preacher” Priestley eyed the ground between his position, hiding behind a tree in a neighboring yard, and the front door of the property they currently surveilled. Twenty feet tops. Marti, his partner on this takedown, had already circled the house while he’d stood watch, sliding along the wood siding and popping up to peer into windows. According to her, there were three men inside playing poker around the kitchen table. One of them was their target, Jasper Quigley.

“Cage is on his way here,” Preacher said softly. “There will only be the three of us. Dagger and Lacey are still making their way back from Anaconda.” Jasper’s meek-looking mama had sent Dagger and his girlfriend on a wild-goose chase, telling them Jasper had holed up there.

Yeah, Jasper was probably feeling pretty smug right about now. He’d given them the slip twice now. Once, when a bartender in Anaconda, whom they’d promised money for a tip, had let them know he was playing cards in an illegal game in the backroom. The second they’d crashed through the door, the skinny fucker had bailed out a window and was on his bike and gone before Cage, who’d been watching the back door, could manage to get around the side of the establishment.

The second time he’d escaped had been when he’d dropped by his best friend’s house for a shower and a resupply before heading back out into the woods in Gallatin National Forest. A neighbor they’d also offered to reward for information regarding his whereabouts had called to let them know when Jasper had just rolled in. By the time they’d mustered the team, Jasper had been long gone, and according to his buddy, he was camped out in the woods where they’d never find him.

With over 2,800 square miles of territory to search in Gallatin, they’d decided to set up cameras to watch all the likely places he might return to…his mom’s, his best friend’s, his girlfriend’s. That way they wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else. And since Anaconda, Jasper’s stomping grounds, wasn’t far from Dead Horse, they could be there the second their tech guru and general flunky, Fredericka “Fig” Newton, let them know.

She’d called an hour ago, having spied a man on a bike arriving after dusk at Jasper’s best friend’s house.

While they hadn’t been certain the man was Jasper, it had been over a week since the twice-convicted felon had come in for a resupply, and the weather had cooled considerably. So, they took the chance since there were only days to go before the bounty ran out.

Footsteps crunched in the dried leaves behind him. Preacher tensed and glanced behind him, just making out a large, burly shadow moving toward him.

His boss, Cage Morgan, lifted his chin when he got closer. “What do we have?”

“Marti’s already scoped out the place. Three men are in the kitchen playing poker. Jasper’s one of them. She sliced one of Jasper’s tires while she was at it to make sure we don’t have the same issue we had in Anaconda.”

“Knew I liked that girl.”

In his ear, he heard a soft grunt coming from Marti.

Preacher’s lips twitched. After working with her for two weeks, he was certain “the girl” had the personality of an old wooden post. “It’s a shotgun house. Going in the front, kitchen’s right past the living room on the right.”

“They armed?”

“One of them is wearing a shoulder holster. Since they were all seated, she couldn’t see what the other two are packing.” Preacher dug into a pouch on his web belt and pulled out an extra earpiece which he handed to Cage.

Cage took a moment to flick it on and insert it in his ear. “You hear me, Marti?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“Got a plan, Preach?”

Preacher shrugged. “Break down the door and kick some ass…?”

“Sounds good to me,” Marti said in his ear.

Cage grimaced. “Let’s try a little more finesse. I don’t like that we can’t be sure whether they’re going to draw weapons.” He let out a sigh. “Hey, Marti? Think you can be our Lacey tonight?”

“I wish like hell one of you two had boobs,” she muttered.

Preacher chuckled, following Cage’s thread and Marti’s disgust.

“I’m stripping,” she growled.

Cage patted his shoulder. “You get around to the back. She’s going in the front. When she’s had a chance to suss out whether they’re all armed, she’ll let us know.”

“What am I supposed to say?” Marti groused. “Hey, is that a gun in your pants or are you just glad to see me?”

Preacher grinned in the shadows. Marti’s flat tone made the snarky comment all that much funnier.

“Yeah, like that,” Cage said, his smile gleaming.

“Okay. Stashed my shit,” she said.

Preacher gave Cage a thumbs up then made his way from the tree line to the corner of the house, just in time to see Marti crouch low and edge her way along the side of the house before straightening beside the porch. It looked like she’d taken a knife to her T-shirt to cut off the arms and most of the neckline, then she’d tucked the tight shirt into her black cargo pants. Her hair was loose and fell in fluffy waves around her shoulders; her lips were glossy and red. Until the moment she stood beneath the porch light, he hadn’t realized she was actually kind of cute.

He kept moving until he was behind the house and stood in the shadowy space beside the wooden back steps.

“Here goes,” Marti muttered. “Gawd, I can’t believe I’m letting you pimp me out.”

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Cage whispered.

Preacher listened as she knocked on the door.

After what felt like forever, the front door creaked open a crack, and then made a longer creaking noise as it widened. “Can I do something for you?”

“Ooh, what a big gun you have! Wow, are you some kind of cop or something?” Marti asked, sounding like a bad actress in a porn movie with her little girl tone and slight lisp.

“Or something,” the man said, his slithery tone telling Preacher that the man liked what he saw.

“Um, I was wondering…”

Preacher imagined her twisting her hair around a finger.

“Do you have a phone I could use? My date left me on the side of the road, and my phone’s still in his damn car.”

“Now, sweetheart, that’s no way for a man to treat a pretty little thing like you.”

Pretty little thing? While just medium height, Marti had an athlete’s build.

“You really think so?”

Preacher shook his head, thinking he’d underestimated his partner’s feminine powers. She was flirting with the thug, and he was eating it up.

“Why don’t you come inside? I have a phone. You thirsty? Need a drink?”

“What do you have?”

The sound of footsteps followed.

“Lookie, boys, at what showed up on my doorstep.”

Chairs scraped.

“That such a good idea?” one male voice asked.

“No big deal,” Marti’s host said. “She needs a drink.”

“And a phone,” she said, in a soft voice.

“Gotta be thirsty. How far did you have to walk?”

“Damn near a quarter mile,” Marti said. “In the dark. I was so happy to see your porchlight on. I was getting worried.”

“Well, don’t you worry about a thing now. Jasper, get her the chair out of my bedroom. Better yet, give her yours. You go fetch the other for yourself.”

Chairs scraped again, likely from the two remaining men and Marti seating themselves.

“Such a gentleman,” Marti crooned.

“Not too much o’ one.” The horse’s ass who was chatting her up laughed like a hyena at his own joke.

Footsteps clomped closer. Something thudded on the floor. “She’s sitting in front of my cards.”

“Jasper, we’ll get back to the game,” Horse’s Ass said.

“Well, you all have some fine hardware there,” Marti murmured. “Don’t think I’ve seen so many guns since my daddy took me to church in Whitefish.”

“Need to know how many,” Preacher whispered.

“You spend much time in Whitefish?” Horse’s Ass asked.

“My daddy used to go there a lot, until Mr. Whitcomb went and got himself arrested.”

“You knew Barney Whitcomb?” Jasper said.

“I met him a time or two. Seemed like a nice man. Can’t believe they’re trying him for kidnapping and assault. Daddy said the guy he hurt probably deserved it.”

“He did, indeed,” Jasper said. “I was supposed to be there the night the FBI and ATF took him off.”

“Really? Well, aren’t you lucky? You coulda been sitting in jail with him.”

“Oh, I’m lucky all right. Had some bounty hunters after my ass a while back. Dumbasses never could catch me.”

“Seriously? Bounty hunters? Like Dog the Bounty Hunter?”

Preacher rolled his eyes.

“More like those fake bounty hunters on Bounty Hunters of the Northwest.”

“Do you really think they’re fake?” Marti asked, her voice tightening a tad. “They all look like they can take care of business.”

A laugh sounded. “Come on, you ever seen Bounty Hunter Barbie? She’s got her own action figure now. It’s all fake. Besides, if they were really good at their jobs, don’t you think they’d already have caught my ass?”

Marti’s laugh tinkled.

Preacher shook his head. Hell, he’d never heard her laugh before. And it tinkled.

After a pause, Marti said, “Oh, that’s good. I was really, really thirsty.”

“Got more where that came from,” Horse’s Ass said, sounding like he was talking into her ear.

“Bet you do,” Marti said under her breath, her flat voice sounding almost like her old self. “My daddy bought me a little Remington pocket pistol to carry in my purse. Fits my hand just right.”

“What are you doing?” Cage whispered in warning.

“Mmm. I just love the way a gun feels in my hand when I squeeze off a round.”

“That the only thing you like to squeeze off?” Horse’s Ass whispered.

“I swear I get off on the feel of steel in my palm.”

“Well, you should feel this one,” another male said.

“That one’s so big,” Marti said, sounding a little breathless. “Not sure my little ole fingers can get all the way around it. Ooh, but I like how that feels.”

Cage chuckled. “Get ready, Preacher. Our little missy is gonna get all the guns.”

“If she doesn’t get raped first,” Preacher bit out.

“Try mine,” Jasper said as Preacher climbed the steps and stood in front of the back door.

“Well, let me see. I’m not sure which I like better. That first one was heavy and so wide it gave me shivers. This one’s not so heavy, but it’s looong.” She giggled. “Let me feel yours.”

Horse’s Ass said, “Shoulda tried mine first. It’s the best.”

“Well, now, I have all three. However, do I choose?”

“Now!” Cage said.

Preacher raised his foot and kicked open the back door. The sound of more splintering wood echoed in his ears.

Shouts sounded from inside.

“Give me my gun!”

Clattering sounded and then a loud thud.

Preacher ran through a mud room and down a short dark corridor.

“Babe, why’d you toss the table?”

“Bitch! You set us up!”

When he stood in the kitchen doorway it was to see Marti standing over the men, a long-barreled revolver in her hand.

“Not so fake now, huh, Jasper?”