And folks, we're back with another episode of Sunday Shenanigans!!!!!
YAY! The crowd goes wild...
And before I forget, no I didn't forget, life has just been crazy busy this last week so I was a bit delayed in drawing the winners for the Super Duper Secretly Cool Swag Packs! I apologize but sometimes life steps up and tries to kick your teeth in. It
almost succeeded this week, but I'm a tough old bird and, well, I kicked back.
Anyhoo...
I did get a chance to draw two very lucky names and they are:
Samantha Alvey
and
Missy Goodsell
I've emailed both but if they don't respond in 48 hours, I'll draw two more and go from there.
But, while we're waiting, I thought I'd share a couple of good things that managed to override the otherwise bad.
I won a Kindle Fire H.D. this week from the lovely
J.S. Scott! Whoo hoo! I love it too. It's awesome! And, she's giving away another 15 too. If you haven't entered, get your happy little behinds over and do so!!!!!
I also picked up several eBooks which I'm looking forward to reading and I managed to get the print cover for A First Love Never Dies up and ready thanks to the lovely R.A. Mizer over at Shoutlines Designs I won a discount from them, so I used it and I must say the cover looks awesome! I'm gonna reveal it as soon as it's finished and I'll let you know when A First Love Never Dies is available in Print...YAY!
And, even better news, Book 2, Saving His Love is almost done. With the week being what it was, I just didn't get enough time to put the finishing touches on it like I wanted.
Oh, and one final thing, I've sent another Paranormal off to be formatted. Love's Prophecy will be out later on this week...
If you missed the cover before, here's another little sneak peek! Enjoy...
And just because I'm sure you want to know...here's an exclusive excerpt:
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The bell above the door jingled, echoing across the empty magic shop. “May I help,”
The words died abruptly in Marla Cortside’s throat. Her fingers clenched, crushing the day’s receipts as her eyes locked into twin pools of shadowed, mossy green. The dream she’d been having for months slammed into her mind. She saw him as he had been then. Dirty, bloody and terrified. He was anorexic with hunger, and desperately in need of her help.
But now he stood in the doorway, holding it open as if he wanted to turn and run instead of stay. He was tall, nearly 6’3”. Broad shoulders stretched his t-shirt, threatening to rip the seams. Blue jeans hugged a trim waist. Golden brown hair fell to his shoulders. Her fingers burned to stroke it, feel it slip through her fingers like newly spun silk. The same heat of connection she felt in her dreams sang through her veins.
Oh Goddess!
What the hell? What was going on?
Who was this man and why did he look healthy?
They stared at one another. She looked for some sign, some indication that he was the one from her dreams. But aside from the uncanny resemblance, there wasn’t the slightest hint he’d been hurt recently, much less tortured. She blinked and broke the contact through sheer effort of will.
He cleared his throat and spoke. “I understand you might be able to help me.”
His tone was blunt, despite the unease that had been just on his face. He shut the door, his long legs eating up the distance to the counter in three fluid strides. He propped a hip against it and crossed his arms over his wide barrel of a chest.
She untwisted the receipts and smoothed them out. This man, unlike his dream-state counterpart, made her nervous, something she wasn’t used to. It was one thing to be powerless to help in her dreams, quite another to be face-to-face with him looking healthy and virile.
By the Goddess, how many times after waking had she fantasized about the aftermath of his rescue? In them, he’d come to her, weeks or months later, fully recovered and looking like he did now. All man and very dangerous to her libido!
No, she was awake now and wouldn’t let her night time indulgences interfere with business.
“It depends on the nature of your situation Mister?”
She let the hint trail off, waiting on him to give his name. Maybe she’d get some answers. If she knew who he was, she could help him either prevent what was to come, or help him get over whatever it was he’d been through in the past.
“I thought all you Witches could read minds.”
Oh great, a non-believer…
That wasn’t going to help! She shrugged indifferently. “Some do, some don’t. I could cast a spell that would tell me exactly who you are, but it would be far easier if you just told me.”
He tossed his wallet onto the counter. It flipped open and a gold Atlanta Police Department badge winked in the beam of sunlight filtering through the skylight above them. “Tygris,” he said. “Detective Austin Tygris,”
She scooped it up, checked the picture against his face and handed it back. “Well then, what can I do for you, Detective?”
Maybe this wasn’t the man from her dream. But the resemblance was uncanny. Granted Dream Man, as she’d come to think of him in the last months, didn’t have any hair, was probably fifty pounds lighter due to starvation, and his flesh looked like it had been stripped to the bone in several places but still. It had to be him.
Past, present or future she just wasn’t sure…yet.
“I need your help on a case.”
Ok, while it wasn’t uncommon for Paganites to help the police, he hadn’t gone through the official channels. If he had, she wouldn’t be talking to him at all. Ellenair, her Coven’s liaison to the Council would be standing here, not the all too sexy, deliciously handsome Detective Austin Tygris. The instant connection she felt disturbed her, cracking through the hard shell she’d spent years building. She smoothed out the stack of receipts again. “Did you petition our local council?”
“No.”
Confirmation! That meant he wasn’t officially here for her help. It was personal.
She checked his finger for a wedding ring. Nothing. Ok, so it wasn’t the cheating wife. Could be a girlfriend? That thought didn’t sit well in her stomach. She tossed it aside and looked up into his eyes. It was a mistake.
She drew in a breath and his scent wafted over her mind, invading her senses like nothing else ever had. Her heart tripped, slamming to a painful halt. The manly smell of Stetson cologne triggered an image of well-worn leather and jingling spurs. An image of this man in tight chaps, a white cowboy hat centered low over his eyes and little else came to mind.
She blinked, pushing the fantasy back. Not now!
“Why haven’t you? Petitioned the Council, I mean. That is standard procedure for the Atlanta Police Department, is it not?” she managed to ask.
“It is. But this is personal.”
Another confirmation. Yeah, it’s getting personal, real fast. The shell cracked again. It was only a tiny fracture but more than enough to unnerve her further. She prided herself on being a professional--cool, calm and unshakable. But this man, in a matter of minutes, had managed to agitate her. “Well then, let’s talk in my office.”
He nodded. “Yes, let’s do that.”
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So, there ya go. Love's Prophecy will be up and live as soon as I get it back from the formatter. Hope you enjoyed it.
Until next time.
Thanks as always for stopping by.
Margaret Taylor
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