I’d intended to blog about my experiences as a member of the GRPD Citizen Police Academy, but recent, tragic events have changed the focus. Later this month, I'll blog about my ride along, taking bites from a couple police dogs and handling who knows how many millions of dollars worth of drugs but for now I’d like to talk a bit about a man in uniform.
Now, I know there are some women out there who really have a thing for a man in uniform, but I've never been that girl. Really. Always went for the artists or musicians. That being said, I'd like to say that I've discovered that I actually do have a thing for a man in uniform. And a woman in uniform.
No, I haven't suddenly become a cop or firefighter groupie - but believe me those women are out there. I enrolled in the Grand Rapids Police Department's Citizen Police Academy and let me tell you, I learned a lot. I can see those of you who know me shaking your heads or outright pointing and laughing at me. I'll admit, I'm not the likeliest candidate for this sort of thing, but I'm so glad I did it. I had taken the course for research purposes, but I came away with so much more.
The course was designed to educate the public about how our local law enforcement operates. I’ve never met a more dedicated group of men and women – officers who love what they do. To Serve and Protect isn’t just a catchy phrase to these men and women. It’s a way of life – a code of honor if you will.
You might be thinking, but Bronwyn, I’ve met/heard about police officers who were real jerks. Well, I’ve met some of those officers, too – more than once. (NOT at the GRPD I’d like to point out.) The truth is there are asshats in every profession - lawyers, doctors, writers, actors, computer programmers – well you get the idea. But after meeting and talking with so many of these people I’m here to tell you that these officers genuinely love what they do and they do it because they want to make a difference.
These are people who have families and friends who love them. They have spouses and significant others with whom they argue and make up. They have kids who want to see them come home. They are people who get cranky, who like a good joke, who get frustrated about the price of gas, who worry about how their kids are doing in school, who are planning weddings and taking care of aging parents - people who are human - just like the rest of us. But they’re also people who are held to a higher standard and people who will risk their lives for you – whether they know you or not.
In a lot of ways, I think being a cop can be a rather thankless job. They break up parties, write tickets and occasionally piss people off – people generally aren’t thrilled to be stopped by a cop or have one show up at their house. However, when these same people need assistance, they want an officer five minutes ago. These men and women risk their lives every time they take a call. They never know what they’re going to find when they reach a scene or pull over a car.
Recently, in Indiana, a state trooper was murdered by a man he’d pulled over for a routine traffic stop. Even more recently, here in Grand Rapids, Officer Bobby Kozminski was ambushed and murdered while securing the perimeter at a domestic disturbance call. I didn’t know Officer Kozminski, but my heart aches for his family, friends and colleagues.
In very real sense, he died protecting every single citizen of this city. Race, creed, orientation - none of those things mattered. A family needed help so he responded. The officers of the GRPD will respond no matter the risk to themselves. Sadly, Officer Kozminski made the ultimate sacrifice.
When it comes to law enforcement, so often the media focuses on only the negative. Let’s face it, there are some situations that have gotten horribly out of control – Rodney King, anyone? But the positive things officers do every single day are overlooked unless there’s a newsworthy tragedy attached. I encourage you to get to know your local law enforcement – if they have a program like the citizen’s police academy, take it. You’ll be amazed by the things you’ll learn. At least take the time to tell them thanks.
I’d like to publicly thank Lt. Mark Ostapowicz and Sgt. John Dorer for taking the time to run such a wonderful class. I’d also like to thank Field Training Officer Gretchen Galloway for patiently putting up with me and all my questions for a whole twelve hour shift as well as Police Chief Harry Dolan for running an awesome department. And a final thank you to Officer Bobby Kozminski who gave his life to help others.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Here and There
Last month I was in Dallas at RWA’s national conference, this month I’m in Manistee, Michigan, one of northern Michigan’s vacation hot spots.
Here’s Dallas: Up at 7am, iron clothes, makeup, hair. Wish for coffee, but don’t have time to wait in line at coffee shop. Ride train thing (I’m sure it has a name but I never took the time to figure it out) through town to conference hotel, meet with somebody to discuss book biz, sit up straight while having biz lunch with somebody else, learn new stuff at workshops. Sign books. Look around for Texas cowboys, see none, feel disappointed. Zip to dinner, catch up with friends, laugh, have fun, look for cowboys, again see none, go to bed.
Here’s Manistee: Up at 10am, put on wrinkled t-shirt and shorts, pull hair back. Drink coffee while slouching on porch swing and watching trees bend in wind. Ride bike for a couple hours. Sneak laptop outside so my DH won’t know I’m working while on vacation. Write for a while. Eat dinner on a paper plate. Go swimming with kids. Laugh, have fun, watch cowboys on tv, go to bed.
Contrasting exepriences are great for writing. Sort of like a life-size bingo ball tank, they tumble you around, shake you up, and get you to see stuff in new ways.
I know, vacations are supposed to be a time away from thinking, but—oh geez—here comes my DH to pull me away from the library computer…
Here’s Dallas: Up at 7am, iron clothes, makeup, hair. Wish for coffee, but don’t have time to wait in line at coffee shop. Ride train thing (I’m sure it has a name but I never took the time to figure it out) through town to conference hotel, meet with somebody to discuss book biz, sit up straight while having biz lunch with somebody else, learn new stuff at workshops. Sign books. Look around for Texas cowboys, see none, feel disappointed. Zip to dinner, catch up with friends, laugh, have fun, look for cowboys, again see none, go to bed.
Here’s Manistee: Up at 10am, put on wrinkled t-shirt and shorts, pull hair back. Drink coffee while slouching on porch swing and watching trees bend in wind. Ride bike for a couple hours. Sneak laptop outside so my DH won’t know I’m working while on vacation. Write for a while. Eat dinner on a paper plate. Go swimming with kids. Laugh, have fun, watch cowboys on tv, go to bed.
Contrasting exepriences are great for writing. Sort of like a life-size bingo ball tank, they tumble you around, shake you up, and get you to see stuff in new ways.
I know, vacations are supposed to be a time away from thinking, but—oh geez—here comes my DH to pull me away from the library computer…
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Don't forget the 5 senses
I recently read a mainstream romance (author/title shall remain nameless) and I feel cheated!
Why? Because the author, who has several books out and good reviews, forgot all about one of the most delightful senses - smell. That's right, the author never once mentioned what things smelled like during the h/h pov. I couldn't believe she'd missed this valuable tool for describing the world she'd created for her characters. There is a fabulous scene involving a camp fire. The author describes the heat from the flames (touch), she describes the crackle and snaps of burning wood (sound), the dancing red and gold color of the flames (sight), and the flavor of rainbow trout cooked over that fire (taste). But what about the SMELL of the smoke? What about the smell of that fish as it's being cooked? What about the smell of the pine forest they're hiding out in? It made me wonder if the author had ever *really* cooked a fish over an open fire or spent time out in the woods.
It takes all 5 senses to bring a book to life. The author didn't need to spend paragraphs on this, just a little clue to animate the reader's brain and make them (in this case - me!) believe the scene.
As an author I strive to keep the senses alive and fresh for my readers. That's what makes the characters and the story seem REAL. Use them all and don't let your readers feel cheated.
Sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. They are all equally valuable tools in an author's repetoire.
~Rita Sable
Why? Because the author, who has several books out and good reviews, forgot all about one of the most delightful senses - smell. That's right, the author never once mentioned what things smelled like during the h/h pov. I couldn't believe she'd missed this valuable tool for describing the world she'd created for her characters. There is a fabulous scene involving a camp fire. The author describes the heat from the flames (touch), she describes the crackle and snaps of burning wood (sound), the dancing red and gold color of the flames (sight), and the flavor of rainbow trout cooked over that fire (taste). But what about the SMELL of the smoke? What about the smell of that fish as it's being cooked? What about the smell of the pine forest they're hiding out in? It made me wonder if the author had ever *really* cooked a fish over an open fire or spent time out in the woods.
It takes all 5 senses to bring a book to life. The author didn't need to spend paragraphs on this, just a little clue to animate the reader's brain and make them (in this case - me!) believe the scene.
As an author I strive to keep the senses alive and fresh for my readers. That's what makes the characters and the story seem REAL. Use them all and don't let your readers feel cheated.
Sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. They are all equally valuable tools in an author's repetoire.
~Rita Sable
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Hot issues
Yikes! I just realized it was my day to post. And, miracles of miracles, I was able to sign in on my first try. Of course, it helps if you check the "Remember Me" box.
Well, I am still trying to get through all of the emails that have been flying back and forth since the RWA conference. It is my first time on the PAN ("Published Author Network") lists and boy, I wonder if the posts have always been this HOT! I seriously doubt it. The main issues are what publishers are eligible to get free space at the conference, which authors are PAN eligible, and what is the definition of "erotic romance."
As readers, I'm sure it is that last one that matters to you. What do you think of when you hear the term, "erotic romance?" Or, in the case of Ellora's Cave authors, "Romantica." since that is a copyrighted term for EC only. Is it the explicitness of the sex scenes or the number of them in the book? Is it the type of sex -- menage (m/m/f, m/f/m), BDSM, shape shifters? How do you come up with a definition that encompasses all the various forms and degrees of "heat" involved in erotic romance?
No matter what your own personal definition might be, IMHO, erotic romance is going to be around for a long time. I am proud to write it. And I am glad all of you read it.
Until next time,
Kate Poole
Well, I am still trying to get through all of the emails that have been flying back and forth since the RWA conference. It is my first time on the PAN ("Published Author Network") lists and boy, I wonder if the posts have always been this HOT! I seriously doubt it. The main issues are what publishers are eligible to get free space at the conference, which authors are PAN eligible, and what is the definition of "erotic romance."
As readers, I'm sure it is that last one that matters to you. What do you think of when you hear the term, "erotic romance?" Or, in the case of Ellora's Cave authors, "Romantica." since that is a copyrighted term for EC only. Is it the explicitness of the sex scenes or the number of them in the book? Is it the type of sex -- menage (m/m/f, m/f/m), BDSM, shape shifters? How do you come up with a definition that encompasses all the various forms and degrees of "heat" involved in erotic romance?
No matter what your own personal definition might be, IMHO, erotic romance is going to be around for a long time. I am proud to write it. And I am glad all of you read it.
Until next time,
Kate Poole
Friday, August 3, 2007
Book on the Way
The book on the way is Isabelle's Diary, release date, September 6th. I have the cover and am still puzzling over how to send the cover to our blog. My helpful friend, Solveig, is out of town for a week so I'll await her return. Her magical touch will solve the mystery of transferring covers to blogs.
Sorry I'm so late blogging. It's 2.28 pm PCT. I've had one of those mornings when I hardly had time to catch my breath before before I had to go and do something else. However, here I am and right now I'm hoping to copy the Blurb for Isabelle's Diary to our blog. Don't hold your breath!
WHEE! It worked but the paragraphs haven't indented. If I touch it the whole thing it might disappear in a puff of smoke.
On a sunny June morning in Llandrindod Wells, Sally Carter stops for coffee at the Celtic Café and notices a beautiful young woman dressed in somber Victorian black sitting at a window table weeping over the pages of a diary. When the girl disappears without a trace and the waitress insists the table had been vacant all morning, Sally is compelled to discover the girl’s identity.
Unraveling the mystery leads Sally on a wild goose chase with the assistance of Dr. Dan Conway, a handsome Welsh history professor, but it’s not until she returns home to Toronto that the final pieces of the puzzle falls into place.
Even then the question lingers. Why was Sally the only person to see the girl?
***
That's the back cover blurb to interest readers in rushing to CP and purchasing my book. To this day Sally isn't sure whether she saw a ghost or it was a figment of her imagination. She's forty-two years old, divorced with two young adult children. She's been on a walking holiday in Wales when she stops at the cafe for coffee. A life changing event. One minute she was planning to explore the old spa town, the next minute she was chasing after the ghostly girl.
But the girl disappears.
***
Can ghosts appear in broad daylight in a sunlit cafe?
How did I come up with the idea for Isabelle's Diary? My husband and I were on a walking holiday in mid-Wales and stopped for coffee in a cafe in Llandrindod Wells. A young woman dressed in old fathioned black clothes sat at a window table drinking a Coke. She kept looking out the window as if expecting someone.
That was it. I imagined a girl dressed in black sitting at the window table weeping over the pages of a diary. She is a ghost - and my story kicked off from there.
Watch for Isabelle's Diary. The sequel, Isabelle's Story will be released on December 27th. It's the story of the girl who wrote the diary.
I loved writing both stories. I loved the mystery I created. But what the heck, I love all my stories that's the pleasure of being a writer.
Anita Birt
www.anitabirt.com
Sorry I'm so late blogging. It's 2.28 pm PCT. I've had one of those mornings when I hardly had time to catch my breath before before I had to go and do something else. However, here I am and right now I'm hoping to copy the Blurb for Isabelle's Diary to our blog. Don't hold your breath!
WHEE! It worked but the paragraphs haven't indented. If I touch it the whole thing it might disappear in a puff of smoke.
On a sunny June morning in Llandrindod Wells, Sally Carter stops for coffee at the Celtic Café and notices a beautiful young woman dressed in somber Victorian black sitting at a window table weeping over the pages of a diary. When the girl disappears without a trace and the waitress insists the table had been vacant all morning, Sally is compelled to discover the girl’s identity.
Unraveling the mystery leads Sally on a wild goose chase with the assistance of Dr. Dan Conway, a handsome Welsh history professor, but it’s not until she returns home to Toronto that the final pieces of the puzzle falls into place.
Even then the question lingers. Why was Sally the only person to see the girl?
***
That's the back cover blurb to interest readers in rushing to CP and purchasing my book. To this day Sally isn't sure whether she saw a ghost or it was a figment of her imagination. She's forty-two years old, divorced with two young adult children. She's been on a walking holiday in Wales when she stops at the cafe for coffee. A life changing event. One minute she was planning to explore the old spa town, the next minute she was chasing after the ghostly girl.
But the girl disappears.
***
Can ghosts appear in broad daylight in a sunlit cafe?
How did I come up with the idea for Isabelle's Diary? My husband and I were on a walking holiday in mid-Wales and stopped for coffee in a cafe in Llandrindod Wells. A young woman dressed in old fathioned black clothes sat at a window table drinking a Coke. She kept looking out the window as if expecting someone.
That was it. I imagined a girl dressed in black sitting at the window table weeping over the pages of a diary. She is a ghost - and my story kicked off from there.
Watch for Isabelle's Diary. The sequel, Isabelle's Story will be released on December 27th. It's the story of the girl who wrote the diary.
I loved writing both stories. I loved the mystery I created. But what the heck, I love all my stories that's the pleasure of being a writer.
Anita Birt
www.anitabirt.com
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Can you see me? I'm Dancing!
Can you see me? I'm drinking virtual champagne and eating virtual strawberries and dancing in the street.
Why?
My novel PROPHECY OF VITHAN is available to buy today. Yup, you can go to http://www.cerridwenpress.com and buy Prophecy of Vithan.
Today I have chatted and interviewed and watched my my head spin around and around. All because my book is now on sale.
Can you tell I am jazzed?
Here’s a look at Prophecy of Vithan, my August 2 release from Cerridwen Press!
Blurb:
Morgan doesn’t have time for marriage. She has to rescue the prince and save the galaxy. Len, the man she was forced to marry and her attraction to him, simply gets in the way. Morgan has to put aside her distrust and convince Len to help her rescue the boy she loves as a son.
Lead into to excerpt: Rated PG - 13
Excerpt:
"Going somewhere?" The man in white, Len Braxton, stood leaning against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest.
Morgan put her hand to her chest.
"Need alcohol." Morgan gasped. "Low blood alcohol level."
"Really? Hildai 37 zeta 845 beta delta 599 unit 2, what is Morgan's blood alcohol level?"
"I prefer Hildai, only. The rest is so pretentious." A mechanical voice said from inside Len's pocket.
"Answer the question, you annoying piece of junk."
"Ninety-eight percent."
"Does she need a drink?" Len asked.
"Only if she wants to forget you, you pompous ass." Hildai said. "Sorry, Morgan. He overwrote my programming."
"Where did you get her?" Morgan demanded.
"Your room. I met the technician there. Very clever getting him out of the way. I'm not clear how you shut down the shield without setting off the alarms."
"I know the codes." Morgan lied. "I'm an escaping Sonij slave. Quite a reward. Are you going to turn me in?"
"No. I'm not interested in rewards. Seems the Royals are having a dinner party tonight. Some bigwig coming and you're to be extra special pretty tonight.” Len looked Morgan up and down. For some reason, Morgan felt self-conscious in her jeans and leather jacket. “I came to escort you to the harem."
"Harem?" Morgan's throat constricted. She tried to keep the alarm out of her voice. She failed.
"Is this fear I see on your face? I thought all female Sonij slaves are comfortable in brothels or harems." Len said sarcastically.
Morgan swung at Len. He stepped out of reach and held his hands in surrender.
"I'm not fighting with you again. I have several badly bruised ribs to mend before I do. If you get nasty, I'll simply put you out." Len pulled a phaser from his pocket.
Morgan shrugged. "Get the med-tech to heal you. You have your disk, don't you?"
"The ribs will heal on their own. Besides, I don't have a disk."
"A Protector without a disk?" Morgan shook head in disbelief. "Tell you what. I'll be good. But,"
"OK," Len interrupted. "Let's go to the harem."
"But," Morgan continued, "First I want to check on Khai. I'm concerned about him."
"No. You were accused of trying to kill him."
"I was exonerated." Morgan said firmly.
"The answer is no. Let's go to the harem." Len said. He waved the phaser in the direction he wanted Morgan to go.
Morgan raised her fists. "Do you know anything about Sonij physiology? We are a strong race. Phaser shot does not affect us as it does others." Morgan lied. "When I reach you, I’ll hammer your ribs. I don't know much about human anatomy. Do the ribs house anything vital?"
"Okay, you win, but I stay with you and the boy at all times." Len agreed.
Morgan lowered her hands. "Call him and ask him to meet me in the armory workout area. I promised him a lesson."
"Call him? Why should I call him? You're linked to him."
"Only in emergencies." Morgan lied. She did not want this man to know she could not touch Khai's mind. "I prefer to give him his privacy."
"Cat told me she interrogated you. Any residual effects, like being unable to link with Khai?" Len asked.
"Unlike you Protectors, I will not invade someone's privacy."
Len looked at Morgan. She couldn't tell if he believed her or not.
"Back against the wall." Len motioned with the phaser. "I want to check for weapons."
"You know I don't have any weapons on me. You searched me before you put me in here."
Len motioned with the phaser again. Morgan sighed. She backed away from the Protector. She put her hands behind her head and spread her legs, her back against the wall. Len pocketed the phaser. He walked to Morgan. He put his hand behind her neck, searching for a knife. Morgan breath came a little quicker. Len stood slightly taller than she did. She could smell the cologne he wore. Len stood close enough for his cheek to brush hers. Morgan closed her eyes to keep from going cross-eyed. Fantasy images of her and Len drifted in her mind. Len edged himself between her legs, forcing her feet wider. Morgan, startled, opened her eyes. The Protector pinned her against the wall, holding her wrists against the back of her neck.
Len leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Hard. Morgan struggled to get loose. Len tightened his grip on her arms. He kissed her again. Morgan's knees weakened after the second kiss. She wanted to wrap her arms around Len and keep him there. She felt desire rising in her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her mind swirled with emotion.
With his other hand, Len slipped a black collar around her throat. The collar snapped on.
Rage curled in Morgan's mind, pushing every other emotion. She wanted to scream. She let herself be caught by the mind control of a Protector, so he could put a slave collar on her. Morgan glared at Len.
Morgan saw the look in his eyes. The kiss affected him, too. Len looked visibly shaken. He swallowed and composed himself.
She shut off her emotions. She willed her eyes to blank. He's a Protector, she reminded herself. She wanted nothing to do with Protectors, especially this Protector. Her only concern must be Khai. She needed to talk to him. The broadsword lesson would be good cover.
Gaining control, Len grinned lewdly. He released Morgan and stepped out of punching and kicking range.
"I'm a slave." Morgan said, irritated with the man. "You're a freeman. You could have told me to put on the collar. You could have ordered me to kiss you, or fuck you. Was the kiss enough? Do you want to have sex? You can have me before the guest arrives. I am a Sonij slave. I am used to brothels and harems. Isn't that what you said? Well, Protector, do you want to fuck before I check on Khai, before I'm ordered to pleasure the guests?"
"Knock it off." Len said, angrily, coloring with embarrassment.
Get your copy of Prophecy of Vithan at www.cerridwenpress.com on August 2!
Charlene Leatherman, Prophecy of Vithan by Cerridwen Press, released August 2, 2007Defeating the villain, destroying the monster, delivering the hero, and never breaking a nail
Blurb:
Morgan doesn’t have time for marriage. She has to rescue the prince and save the galaxy. Len, the man she was forced to marry and her attraction to him, simply gets in the way. Morgan has to put aside her distrust and convince Len to help her rescue the boy she loves as a son.
Lead into to excerpt: Rated PG - 13
Excerpt:
"Going somewhere?" The man in white, Len Braxton, stood leaning against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest.
Morgan put her hand to her chest.
"Need alcohol." Morgan gasped. "Low blood alcohol level."
"Really? Hildai 37 zeta 845 beta delta 599 unit 2, what is Morgan's blood alcohol level?"
"I prefer Hildai, only. The rest is so pretentious." A mechanical voice said from inside Len's pocket.
"Answer the question, you annoying piece of junk."
"Ninety-eight percent."
"Does she need a drink?" Len asked.
"Only if she wants to forget you, you pompous ass." Hildai said. "Sorry, Morgan. He overwrote my programming."
"Where did you get her?" Morgan demanded.
"Your room. I met the technician there. Very clever getting him out of the way. I'm not clear how you shut down the shield without setting off the alarms."
"I know the codes." Morgan lied. "I'm an escaping Sonij slave. Quite a reward. Are you going to turn me in?"
"No. I'm not interested in rewards. Seems the Royals are having a dinner party tonight. Some bigwig coming and you're to be extra special pretty tonight.” Len looked Morgan up and down. For some reason, Morgan felt self-conscious in her jeans and leather jacket. “I came to escort you to the harem."
"Harem?" Morgan's throat constricted. She tried to keep the alarm out of her voice. She failed.
"Is this fear I see on your face? I thought all female Sonij slaves are comfortable in brothels or harems." Len said sarcastically.
Morgan swung at Len. He stepped out of reach and held his hands in surrender.
"I'm not fighting with you again. I have several badly bruised ribs to mend before I do. If you get nasty, I'll simply put you out." Len pulled a phaser from his pocket.
Morgan shrugged. "Get the med-tech to heal you. You have your disk, don't you?"
"The ribs will heal on their own. Besides, I don't have a disk."
"A Protector without a disk?" Morgan shook head in disbelief. "Tell you what. I'll be good. But,"
"OK," Len interrupted. "Let's go to the harem."
"But," Morgan continued, "First I want to check on Khai. I'm concerned about him."
"No. You were accused of trying to kill him."
"I was exonerated." Morgan said firmly.
"The answer is no. Let's go to the harem." Len said. He waved the phaser in the direction he wanted Morgan to go.
Morgan raised her fists. "Do you know anything about Sonij physiology? We are a strong race. Phaser shot does not affect us as it does others." Morgan lied. "When I reach you, I’ll hammer your ribs. I don't know much about human anatomy. Do the ribs house anything vital?"
"Okay, you win, but I stay with you and the boy at all times." Len agreed.
Morgan lowered her hands. "Call him and ask him to meet me in the armory workout area. I promised him a lesson."
"Call him? Why should I call him? You're linked to him."
"Only in emergencies." Morgan lied. She did not want this man to know she could not touch Khai's mind. "I prefer to give him his privacy."
"Cat told me she interrogated you. Any residual effects, like being unable to link with Khai?" Len asked.
"Unlike you Protectors, I will not invade someone's privacy."
Len looked at Morgan. She couldn't tell if he believed her or not.
"Back against the wall." Len motioned with the phaser. "I want to check for weapons."
"You know I don't have any weapons on me. You searched me before you put me in here."
Len motioned with the phaser again. Morgan sighed. She backed away from the Protector. She put her hands behind her head and spread her legs, her back against the wall. Len pocketed the phaser. He walked to Morgan. He put his hand behind her neck, searching for a knife. Morgan breath came a little quicker. Len stood slightly taller than she did. She could smell the cologne he wore. Len stood close enough for his cheek to brush hers. Morgan closed her eyes to keep from going cross-eyed. Fantasy images of her and Len drifted in her mind. Len edged himself between her legs, forcing her feet wider. Morgan, startled, opened her eyes. The Protector pinned her against the wall, holding her wrists against the back of her neck.
Len leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Hard. Morgan struggled to get loose. Len tightened his grip on her arms. He kissed her again. Morgan's knees weakened after the second kiss. She wanted to wrap her arms around Len and keep him there. She felt desire rising in her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her mind swirled with emotion.
With his other hand, Len slipped a black collar around her throat. The collar snapped on.
Rage curled in Morgan's mind, pushing every other emotion. She wanted to scream. She let herself be caught by the mind control of a Protector, so he could put a slave collar on her. Morgan glared at Len.
Morgan saw the look in his eyes. The kiss affected him, too. Len looked visibly shaken. He swallowed and composed himself.
She shut off her emotions. She willed her eyes to blank. He's a Protector, she reminded herself. She wanted nothing to do with Protectors, especially this Protector. Her only concern must be Khai. She needed to talk to him. The broadsword lesson would be good cover.
Gaining control, Len grinned lewdly. He released Morgan and stepped out of punching and kicking range.
"I'm a slave." Morgan said, irritated with the man. "You're a freeman. You could have told me to put on the collar. You could have ordered me to kiss you, or fuck you. Was the kiss enough? Do you want to have sex? You can have me before the guest arrives. I am a Sonij slave. I am used to brothels and harems. Isn't that what you said? Well, Protector, do you want to fuck before I check on Khai, before I'm ordered to pleasure the guests?"
"Knock it off." Len said, angrily, coloring with embarrassment.
Get your copy of Prophecy of Vithan at www.cerridwenpress.com on August 2!
Charlene Leatherman, Prophecy of Vithan by Cerridwen Press, released August 2, 2007Defeating the villain, destroying the monster, delivering the hero, and never breaking a nail
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
It's Here!
Beltaine Bargain is being released today from the wonderful people at The Wild Rose Press. It is a Faery Miniature Rose, which means it is a paranormal short story. It is also my first ever historical piece, so I'm doubly excited about this one. Get your copy today at www.thewildrosepress.com Blurb:
Rhodri of Llyan has returned from the Crusades a cursed man. On the way home to Wales, a young friend is sorely injured, and Rhodri seeks the aid of village healer, Selene, whose gift for healing is as uncanny as her beauty. Can Selene’s magic find a way to break the curse, and heal the wounds on his heart? And what price will she demand for her help? Can he meet her Beltaine Bargain?
Rhodri of Llyan has returned from the Crusades a cursed man. On the way home to Wales, a young friend is sorely injured, and Rhodri seeks the aid of village healer, Selene, whose gift for healing is as uncanny as her beauty. Can Selene’s magic find a way to break the curse, and heal the wounds on his heart? And what price will she demand for her help? Can he meet her Beltaine Bargain?
Excerpt:
Inexorably, the new moon approached, no more than four or five days away by his estimation. The power and hunger coiled and rolled in his belly, throbbed in his manhood when he thought of Selene. He wanted her more than he ever had any woman. Even Zara. His wife.
He stripped off his tunic as he approached the stream, folding it and laying it on a mossy patch of ground. He hadn’t bothered with tabard or surcoat while staying with Selene, the formal trappings seemed to have no business in this tiny pocket of paradise. He tugged off his boots and sat them alongside his sword belt and bow. He’d never seen another soul by the gentle river, but he’d grown too wary in his years to allow his weapons to be far out of reach. With one last look around, he pulled off his braes and waded into the chilly current.
The splashing sound took him by surprise, as did the startled, “oh!” that followed it. The noise came from just around the bend in the stream, so Rhodri waded over to see who it was, peeking cautiously around the tall weeds that hid the next section of river.
He stood frozen at the sight that met his gaze, his jaw hanging, and eyes unblinking. Holy Mother of God, it was Selene. She was bending over with her back to him, but he’d know that delicious rump anywhere. Only now it was hidden by naught but a thin layer of wet linen, which molded to every curve and dip of her flesh.
“There you are!” She stood, clutching the cake of soap that she must have dropped moments earlier. She hummed in her endearingly off-key voice as she began to soap one tiny white foot that she lifted in front of her. He must have made a sound, because she shrieked, and whirled to look at him. But she must have forgotten she stood on one foot, because with another cry, she toppled into the water.
Rhodri wasn’t sure he’d ever moved faster, even in the midst of a battle. He practically flew to her side, drew her sputtering face above the surface, then held her close as she coughed.
“Rhodri!” Her pearly skin reddened as she realized who held her. “You startled me!”
“I’m sorry, sweeting. Can you breathe yet?” He watched her anxiously for signs of harm.
“I’m fine.” She brushed her wet hair back from her face with one hand, still clinging to his chest with the other. To his immense relief, her breathing began to return to normal.
But his own lungs were still heaving, his heart pumping furiously. It had finally occurred to him that they were standing in each other’s arms, with only a thin scrap of cloth between their wet, naked bodies. He nearly staggered as every last drop of blood left his head for places south.
“Oh my!” Selene’s soft, gentle hand began tracing the lines of his chest, the planes of his ribs. She gripped one shoulder as though testing its strength before sliding in a slow, sensuous stroke down the muscles of his arm. Her tiny pink tongue darted out to moisten her rosebud lips, and her breath had speeded up again, almost matching the ragged pace of his own.
“Selene!” Her name was all he could groan before he gave into the need, and allowed his hungry lips to crush down on hers. She must not have minded, because she tightened her grip on his waist and shoulder, then rose to her tiptoes to meet his kiss. Rhodri was lost then, and he wrapped his arms round her slender waist, pulling her body even tighter against his.
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