I'm On Tour!

Like a rock star goddess, I'm going on virtual tour these next two months, and my rock/blog manager is Sizzlin' Hot PR. My first stop is the mother ship ~ Sizzlin' Hot Books ~ on September 1, 2011. 

As the great dame herself, Bette Davis said, in 'All About Eve'. "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night." That quote was at the beginning of a party, and this is my blog tour party. Let's have at her.

Six Sentence Sunday

"As ye ken, poor Father Cleirich canna speak a word of English and relied on me to translate."

Evelyn knew that. He'd babbled for at least ten minutes when they met at the fork in the road.

"Ye’ll also remember I told ye the good Father asked if ye were in want of a good night's rest, and warm food."

She did remember, and in deference to the priest's mother tongue, she'd replied 'Aye', strangely pleased when he smiled a broad, almost toothless grin.
"What ye dinna realize - me Lady - the good Father recited marriage vows and ye most readily said 'Aye', to being my wife."
Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Craven stood in front of her, strong arms braced against the wall, boxing her in.

From Craven Desires - WIP

Friday 56

I know better than to think if I keep my eyes closed my ghost will go away. It doesn't work that way. When your private demons decide to mess with you, they demand their pound of flesh. It's best to pay it and get it over with.
Then I can focus on finding my way off the black floor. I brace myself for how bad it's going to be. I speculate that if the golden floors in the Hall of ALL Days were bad, black floors in the White Mansion will be...forgive the pun...beyond the pale.
Fingers twine with mine. I know the hand as well as my own.
Sighing, I open my eyes.
I jerk away and scramble back frantically, boots slipping on the shiny black surface. I sprawl flat on my back with such a jot that I bite my tongue.
I begin to hyperventilate. Does she see me? Does she know me? Is she there? Am I?
She laughs, a silvery sound, and it makes my heart hurt. I remember laughing like that once. Happy, so happy.
I don't even try to get up. I just lay there and watch her. I'm bewildered. I'm hypnotized. I'm carved in two by a sense of duality I cannot reconcile.
This is from the fabulous writing of Karen Marie Moning's - SHADOWFEVER

Friday 56

From According to Plan:

The phone rang and Polly looked at the call display. She answered the phone, "Stewart Investigations, can you hold please?" With a perfect smile and turning on her famed southern charm, she gushed, "Tank, would you be a doll and get me a coffee... from Hal's?"

Tank shrugged. He recognized it as a ploy to get him out of the office while she took the call. Hal's was at least four blocks away, while a perfectly good take out place was only two doors down. As the door to the office closed, he heard, "What happened, hon, you missed your flight. Was it cancelled?"

That's interesting. Shelby was flying somewhere. Now all he had to to do was get the where and when. While at Hal's, Tank bought a fresh Boston Cream donut, Polly's favorite, to go with her coffee, tossing the complimentary napkins into the garbage.

Six Sentence Sunday

This is from my work in progress, Dark Desires, Tessa was awakened from another erotic dream by a phone call from her mother. 

Standing, Tessa stretched. It was o-dark thirty but she didn't have to be up for another four hours. Would she have any more erotic dreams? Shades of the one, prior to her mother's phone call, danced around the edges of her memory. Like most dreams, it seemed jumbled and confusing, and she was too tired to sort it out right now.

She crawled into bed, and pulled the covers back over her shoulders, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, never noticing the tall, quiet man in the corner of her room.

Saturday Snippet

This will replace my Friday 56 post, that I missed yesterday! Bad Madison. Couldn't be helped. Friends invited us over for a BBQ, and when I don't have to cook... Need I say more?
So, here is a snippet from a current work in progress - it has no name

Hannah’s scuffed her feet on the road and dust flew up, before settling back down to create a light film on her brand new black patent shoes. She didn’t know how much longer she’d have to stand here and be quiet, but Mama promised her a chocolate chip cookie if she behaved and didn’t go ‘stirring up trouble’, as Mama liked to put it.
Mama was talking to the preacher, and they both kept nodding and the preacher kept patting Mama’s arm. Hannah tugged on her mother’s hand and her mother looked down. Hannah had never seen Mama cry in public before, but her eyes were all red-rimmed and she looked terribly sad. Almost as sad as Hannah had been when her dog ran away.
Mama patted her hand. “A few more minutes, Hannah. Be a good girl, okay?”
“Yes, Mama.”
More ladies from the church came out and each stopped to touch Mama, or take hold of her hand. Mama kept sniffing into her hanky.
Finally, there was no one left in the church to come out, except for Mr. Granger. And he’d be there for hours cleaning up all the flowers that had been scattered around the front of the church.
Hannah thought it had been pretty. Large and small bouquets placed in different areas, creating a pleasant smell. The prettiest one had been all white flowers, lying on a long shiny brown box. The box must have been important because it was placed in front of the preacher, and almost blocked the middle aisle.
Mama put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. Hannah knew that when Mama did that, she was fixin’ to go. She wondered if there was any milk to go with the promised cookie.
“Thank you, Pastor. You’ve been a blessing.” Mama shook the preacher’s hand.
“I’m here for you Mrs. Doyle. If you need any guidance or want someone to pray with, you call.”
“I will.” Mama took hold of Hannah’s hand. “Come Hannah. We’ll go home now.”
The preacher turned his caring brown eyes to Hannah. “You take care, child. Don’t forget to come to Sunday school.”
“I won’t.”
Skipping alongside her mother, Hannah loved the walk home. Her Mama was usually so busy, or tired, Hannah didn’t get to spend time with her like she wanted. But this whole week Mama had been home and lots of people stopped in, bringing all sorts of goodies to eat.
Their little fridge was crammed with so much food Hannah thought it would take years to eat it all. When Papa got home, he’d never believe it.
Thinking of her Papa, Hannah stopped skipping and slowed to a walk. Where was Papa? He’d never been gone this long before. Hannah tried to count how many days Papa had been away this time, but she couldn’t remember when he’d left.
Papa travelled all the time. He’d tell her stories of all the places he’d been, and people he’d seen. Her favorite was about the great white castle, and the king who lived there.
Papa didn’t call him a king, but Hannah heard Papa say he was the country’s leader, and everyone did what he said. Hannah imagined long, wide hallways, and grand staircases. Papa knew all sorts of important people and that’s why he was away from home a lot. Papa said the king trusted him the most, and gave Papa important gifts to keep safe. Gifts she’d seen him take to the old shed outside.
She'd snuck into the shed once, to see where Papa put them, but all she found were tools, and smelly gas cans. Papa must have brought them back into the house. There were lots of hiding places in the house.
When Papa was home, he’d play all sorts of games with her. He’d play eye spy, and hide the button. He told her the best place to hide something precious was to place it in plain sight.
Once she figured that one out, he had a hard time hiding the button on her. She’d wait quietly in her bedroom while he hid the button, and then spot it within minutes of walking in the room. Sometimes he’d move a picture, or put books in a different order and see how long it took her to realize something in the room had changed.
Papa wouldn’t play the memory game with her anymore, because no matter how many cards Papa laid down, Hannah never forgot where a card was once she saw it. He said on his next trip he was going to bring back more puzzle games for them to play.
She knew Mama missed Papa, because when he was gone, and Mama thought she was asleep, she would hear her crying. In fact, Mama was crying when the man, dressed all in black, crawled through Hannah’s window.
Hannah slid out of bed, and scuttled underneath. He was so quiet; she almost couldn’t hear him walk across the floor. Big feet stopped by her bed, and she heard the bed covers rustle. She shrank further into the corner under the bed. The feet turned, and left her room, the door closing quietly behind him.
She stayed there for a long time, and didn’t move even when she heard a zinging noise. There were sounds of furniture being turned over, and breaking glass. Then silence and Hannah still didn’t move.
She’d fallen asleep, and woke to voices shouting and then rapid footsteps thundered down the hall. Her door flung open and work scuffed boots appeared in doorway.
“She’s not here.”
“Oh my god. Do you think whoever killed Ruth took her?”
“I don’t know. We have to call the Sheriff, and form a search party. Maybe she’s hiding outside somewhere.”
“She’s only four, Bob. Anything could happen to her.”
Hannah recognized the voices of Mrs. Busey and her husband, Bob. Mama liked them. Said they were good people, and she didn’t know what she’d do without them.
Hannah crawled out from under the bed. Her legs stiff from being curled so tight. Mr. Busey turned when he heard her shuffling, grabbed her tight and squeezed.
“Oh thank the Lord, you’re safe.”
Mrs. Busey hurried over.
“Hannah, are you all right child?” Hannah gazed at the kind, older woman. She’d been crying and her cheeks, normally bright red, were pale.
“Yes ma’am,” Hannah mumbled. “Where’s Mama?”