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Sunday, February 27, 2011

SUPERNATURAL SUNDAY


A CUPID INTERVIEW

My guests today are, Valek Ruzik and Charlotte Ruzikova – please, have a seat on our lovely couch! – from the Southern Bohemian Occult, The Czech Republic. Their tale can be found in Of Light and Darkness a novel creation by Shayne Leighton.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, Valek, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or hers?

Valek Ruzik: Though it is against my normal belief system, I'd have to say it was by fate that I found Charlotte. I never believed that our relationship would grow to this magnitude. It also was a little bit by her design. If she didn't look up at me with those lovely, enormous eyes…I truly don't know if I would have made the same decision.

Cupid: Charlotte, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Charlotte Ruzikova: Well, being that I was very tiny the first moment I saw him, I don't remember. I actually don't remember anything about that night. Growing up, I always thought he was the most beautiful person (or monster) I've ever seen.

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Charlotte: I'd say it was the moment I walked in and saw Valek romantic with someone else. I had never really viewed him romantically before, and witnessing that triggered something within me that had otherwise been hidden in the very back corners of my mind. The pain brought all of that to attention.

Valek: I actually believe it was more than just that. I had been watching Charlotte's mind for years, and I saw the progression. I knew it would happen eventually, though I tried to deny those feelings within myself as well. We know this is wrong. Really, everything grew to perplexity after we were captured. We have always loved and trusted each other to great lengths, but now the situation has become something different with the threat that either one of us could be killed tomorrow...

Cupid: This one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Charlotte: I guess…I've always known. Even when I was too little to understand what love was. I know that won't ever go away. He saves my life almost on a daily basis. He's the only one that I have in the entire world. It's been that way for as long as I can remember and nothing will ever change that. 

Valek: I did not expect this at all when I initially found her. I knew I instantly loved her the minute I laid eyes on her…but I never thought she would become my soulmate. I am so happy she did. The moment I knew she was the one, was the moment I thought I was going to lose her forever.

Cupid: Valek, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Charlotte?

Valek: That is a loaded question. There were many obstacles I needed to overcome. Some that lived within myself and some that our chaotic world kept throwing at me. I'm still struggling with the fact that I raised Charlotte….I am still struggling with the fact that her blood calls for me and the thirst remains anguishing in the back of my throat.

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Charlotte: I think we only have to thank each other...

Valek: I agree. No one in their right mind would have put us together…this is our own decision and our own doing.

Cupid: I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Charlotte, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Valek would _____?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Charlotte: *blushes deeply* I…I um… *Looks to Valek and rubs the scar at her neck - hands start shaking.*

Cupid: Well, it seems we've bitten off a little more than we can chew. Valek, would you prefer to give Charlotte a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Valek: I am…much better at a back massage.

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Newlywed Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Valek, what would Charlotte say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Valek: That's an easy one…I remember one evening, Charlotte sliced her hand open on purpose….

Cupid: Charlotte, is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Charlotte: That's definitely it. I get a little…carried away...

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Valek, what would Charlotte say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is she correct in that assumption?

Valek: Well, I don't have a particular spot. But I love any spot of hers that has a pulse behind it...

Charlotte: *Turns red again*

Cupid:Charlotte, as far as you know, what is Valek’s idea of a perfect date?

Charlotte: Somewhere quiet. Somewhere away from all of the chaos, that's peaceful and just the two of us alone.

Cupid: Valek, is she correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Valek: Yes, that is absolutely correct. *Takes Charlotte's hand*

Cupid: Valek, your turn in the hot seat. What is Charlotte’s idea of a perfect date?

Valek: Much the same as mine, though I'm sure she'd love the opportunity to arise that would again allow her to…get "a little carried away."

Cupid: Charlotte, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Charlotte: *Giggles*

Cupid: The next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Charlotte: Saved my life. He's done it more than once and each time reminds me of how brave he is and how important I am to him.

Valek: Given me her life. If she didn't do that, I'm not sure if I would be here this moment.

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Charlotte: The fact that we're different. I would love to some day be the same as Valek.

Valek: I would not alter a thing.

Cupid: Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Charlotte: What is…"Valentine's Day"?

Valek: We do not celebrate this trivial holiday…

Cupid: Thanks to Valek and Charlotte for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story,Of Light and Darkness.

To learn more about Valek and Charlotte's author, Shayne Leighton, visit: http://OfLightandDarknessSeries.com

About Of Light and Darkness:



"She heard these last words despite the rushing, like a flash flood through a hollow tunnel that was submerging her. “I love you” rang out so saliently as the rest of her dark world seemed to evanesce into hell. The hissing, the screaming, the pain. And “I love you.” She kept hearing it over and over again until she realized she was speaking the words herself. Too weak to yell it, so it came out in a whisper. “I love you.” She hoped he could hear the thing she wanted to scream to the world. “I love you.” She said for the last time before she melted into oblivion. "


When one small human stands before an army of impossible things, she realizes the possibilities of overcoming any obstacle in this coming-of-age modern fairytale.

Abandoned as an infant in Prague, Charlotte Ruzikova was raised by Valek, one of the last Vampires left alive. Genocide and war conflicts their secret society nestled deep in the woods of Eastern Europe.

But when the dictator in power becomes threatened by evil lurking in Valek's past, Charlotte must find a way to fight for the only thing she has ever truly believed in - and all before the sun comes up.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

STARLIGHT SATURDAY


A CUPID INTERVIEW

My guests today are Eric and Dwayne– please, have a seat on our lovely couch! – from Canada. Their tale can be found in Permanent Ink a novel creation by Jaime Samms.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, Eric, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or his?

Eric *casting a sly glance at Dwayne* Neither. I think it was pretty much hate at first sight for both of us. I thought he was a thug and he thought I was about the biggest jerk North of the 49th. I was wrong. *puts his hand on Dwayne's knee* He wasn't, but I think he's mostly forgiven me.

In fact, though, we never would have met if not for his cousin, Angel, who happens to be my best friend, inviting Dwayne to come up and live with him for a few months.

Cupid: Dwayne, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Dwayne: What he said. In his defence, I didn't give him much reason to doubt his first impression.

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Dwayne: *looking uncomfortable* It's a long story.

Eric: Like I said, he came to live with Angel. The why doesn't really matter. And since Angel and I spend most of our waking, non-class time in each other's back pockets, it was inevitable I would meet him, eventually.

Cupid: This one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Eric: *swallowing hard and looking at Dwayne* When he told me his story. Which is about the same time I realized what an ass I'd been.

Dwayne: First time I saw him. Hen he opened his mouth… *grinning* But Angel convinced me to give him a chance.

Eric Really? *stunned*

Dwayne: Laughs

Cupid: Eric, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Dwayne?

Eric: Myself. I mean, we still have a ways to go. But getting over myself was huge.

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Eric: Angel

Dwayne: *speaking simultaneously* Angel

Cupid: I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Eric, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Dwyne would _____?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Eric: *Blushes* I can't say that here!

Dwayne: *chuckles*

Cupid: Dwayne, would you prefer to give Eric a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Dwayne: Is there some reason I can't do both? You know there's this new bubble bath scent guaranteed to…put you in the mood… *grins at Eric's blush* God, I love when he does that!

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Newlywed Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Dwayne, what would Eric say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Dwayne: That pink in his cheeks right there.

Eric: *Blushes more deeply*

Dwayne: Oh yeah, Baby. Tell me that isn't the biggest turn on.

Cupid: Eric, is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Eric: *Squirms* He's right. *glares at Dwayne*

Dwayne: *Snickers*

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Dwayne, what would Eric say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is she correct in that assumption?

Dwayne: *covers the star tattoos on his inner elbow with his other hand* He has a thing for my tats. Makes me crazy when he…can I say licks? Yeah.

Eric: Admit it. You see stars when I lick your stars.

Cupid: Eric, as far as you know, what is Dwayne's idea of a perfect date?

Eric: Staying in. Eating a meal. Eating each—ah…licking.

Cupid: Dwayne. is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Dwayne: I like watching him play ball. But yeah. A night in, cooking, hanging.

Cupid: Dwayne, your turn in the hot seat. What is Eric's idea of a perfect date?

Dwayne: He likes when I give him…cooking lessons. Those are always good times.

Cupid: Eric, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Eric: *more blushing* Yeah. Cooking.

Cupid: The next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Eric: You'll laugh, but the night he made me talk to my brother instead of kick him out. Doesn't sound romantic, but it meant a lot to me, after, to know he wanted us to make up. He didn't even really know me that well yet, and he made me do it. That was cool. He put me first.

Dwayne: He kissed the stars. *points to the tattoo on his arm* Because of what they mean, how they got there. And he didn't care.

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Eric: He'd move in already.

Dwayne: *stares*

Eric: What?

Dwayne: Here? Now?

Eric: *shrugs* Say yes.

Dwayne: Ask properly.

Eric: *faces him* Dwayne, move in with me. Um. Please.

Dwayne: Um. Please?

Eric: *rolls his eyes*

Dwayne:
Fine, but you so are going to pay for doing this in public.

Eric: Promise?

Dwayne: Oh, I promise, Sweetcheeks

Cupid: Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Dwayne: He has. He's developed a tradition of putting me on the spot.

Eric: *shrugging and settling back in his seat, self satisfied* It worked, didn't it? Both times.

Cupid:
Thanks to Eric and Dwayne for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story, Permanent Ink.

To learn more about Eric and Dwayne's author, Jaime Samms, visit: http://www.jaime-samms.net/



Buy Link: http://pinkpetalbooks.com/Permanent-Ink-by-Jaime-Samms.html


Blurb:



Eric has gone through life putting a lot of store in outward appearances, so when his best friend Angel's cousin, Dwayne comes along, with his tattoos and body piercings, Eric is sure there's a story behind all that armour. He's equally sure it's a story he doesn't care to hear. He's already written Dwayne off as a thug and player.

Finding out the truth behind Dwayne's tough exterior proves Eric really didn't know anything, not even his very best friend. Learning about Angel and Dwayne's past gives Eric a good look into his own truth, and he's not so sure he likes what he sees, but is it too late to change? More important, is it too late to convince Dwayne he was wrong?

Excerpt:


Lunch the next day was a greasy burger and soggy fries at the diner on the ground floor of Eric's building. He didn't cook and another bowl of cereal or piece of toast didn't appeal in the least. He was just poking at the mess when the bell over the door rang. He looked up to see Dwayne glancing around the joint. As soon as those dark eyes fixed on him, Eric felt heat curl in his belly. He let the top bun of his burger fall from where he had it pinched between his fingers and wiped his hands on his napkin.

"Hey." Dwayne sauntered over, his hips swaying, his customary grin in place, but his eyes were deep and brooding.

"Hi." Eric indicated the seat across from him. "How'd you find me?"

Dwayne tilted his head. "You not wanting to be found?"

"No. Just...wondering. Have a seat."

"Angel." Dwayne slid into the booth across from Eric. "Gave me your address. Told me you eat here sometimes. You didn't answer your door so I figured no harm in trying, right?"

Eric nodded. "Right."

Dwayne pulled the sugar shaker out of the wire basket next to the wall and proceeded to pour a pile of it onto the table. He eyed Eric's plate and asked, in a rather dubious voice; "So what's good here?"

A grimace turned up Eric's lip. "Not much. You hungry?"

"I could eat." He paused. "But maybe not that. Had enough slop in the joint to know I don't ever want it again." He pushed the sugar pile around with his baby finger. Shapes appeared, outlined in the white crystals; a square, manipulated into a circle then into a star.

Eric bit his lip. "We could go somewhere else." He watched as Dwayne carefully erased his work by pushing the sugar back into a heap and started over.

"Like to eat food I cooked myself." He picked up Eric's fork and poked at the limp fries with it. "Angel and Marianne needed some time, ya know?" Abandoning the fork like an empty flag pole in the mound of fries, he went back to shifting the sugar around the dark melamine of the table top and a heart appeared.

"I see." Eric thought fast, but he knew he had no food in his apartment, and said so. He watched the heart take form and wondered if it was in relation to Angel and Marianne or something else.

"There's a market just down the block," Dwayne suggested. He drew an arrow protruding out the side of the heart. "If you got a stove."

"Sure." Eric swallowed hard. "I do."

"Light a few candles and it could be a right proper fucking Valentine's date," Dwayne said, his voice thick with something that could have been sarcasm except for the low tone, the way his eyes didn't spark with that snarky light Eric was used to seeing there.

"Huh." Eric was finding it hard to speak. His mouth was dry, his thoughts scattered like the grains of sugar fanning out from the crooked heart Dwayne had sketched. "Is it the fourteenth already?"

Almost black eyes peered up through thick, long lashes. Dwayne shrugged. He poised his hand to sweep the sugar away but Eric stopped him. They stared at one another for a long minute.

Eric nodded once. "Okay."

Friday, February 25, 2011

PHANTASM FRIDAY

A CUPID INTERVIEW


My guests today are, George Matthew Franklin and Michaela Miles – please, have a seat on our lovely couch! – from Philadelphia, PA. Their tale can be found in What Not to Fear a novel creation by Robert C Roman.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, George, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or hers?

Matt: Please, call me Matthew. I’ve never particularly liked ‘George’. At any rate, we met at work. I’m a forensic investigator and Michaela is a police detective. As to which of us made the first move, that would be me, I think.

Michaela: Yeah, Frank. You caught me by surprise in the elevator. I still feel a little stupid for stopping you, but… *shrug*

Cupid: Excuse me, but… Frank?

Michaela: Well… Yeah. I mean, c’mon. Look at him. He’s a friggin’ giant. He’s two feet taller than me. I think Frankenstein fits him pretty good. Besides, you just get used to using last names in the precinct, and his last name is Franklin.

Matt: Our first date was her idea, though.

Michaela: Was not!

Matt: Michaela, you invited yourself over to dinner with my parents.

Michaela: Hey, your godmother invited me, not the other way around. ‘Sides, I didn’t hear you complaining.

Matt: Touche.

Cupid: Michaela, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Michaela: I… OK, look, if you so much as crack a smile, I’m making your dentist rich, but I had some issues when we met. I’m… I’m working on those still, but… Yeah, no. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight. Something like that, but not quite love. ‘nuff said.

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Michaela: Oh, that’s easy. Captain Hayes decided it would be a good idea for Frank to follow me around like a puppy, sniffing for clues. Like I said, there was an attraction from the very beginning. I didn’t really know how to deal with it, but I, uh, figured it out. Yeah, that’s my story and it’s sticky.

Cupid: Don’t you mean ‘you’re sticking to it’?

Michaela: Yeah, that too. *smirks*

Matt: I wasn’t exactly forced to work with Michaela. I was assigned as her partner, and I certainly didn’t mind. She’s the most attractive woman I’ve ever met.

Michaela: Frank! How can you just say it like that?

Matt: *shrug* It’s true. Y’know, I still wonder if our… little friends *mimes a butterfly* had anything to do with Captain Hayes decision.

Cupid: Little friends?

Matt: Er, I’d really prefer not to mention them by name. They’re a pair of Pixies, and they’ve recently been elevated to positions of some power in the Unseeleigh Fae Court, and they might hear it. They moonlight as Fairy Godfathers.

Cupid: It sounds like they’re in the same line of work as I am. I’d love to talk to them!

Michaela: Ooh, yeah, no. Frank’s right, that would be bad. X doesn’t like you much, and he carries a shiv. *covers her mouth*

Matt: *winces* Yeah. Maybe we’re lucky and they’re otherwise occupied. Next question, before he shows up and gets violent?

Cupid: *looks askance at the couple* Okay, this one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Michaela: True feelings? Heck, I’m still not sure on… No, that would be a lie. I think I was attracted to him from the first moment I laid eyes on him, but I didn’t really admit any of it to myself until he called me back. It’s not easy to turn your back on Heaven, y’know.

Matt: *smiles* I knew I wanted her to be the one from the moment I laid eyes on her. I don’t think there was a single moment when that went from wanting to being, for me. She grows on you.

Michaela: What, I’m a fungus now? I belong sliced on your pizza?

Matt: *chuckles* Sweetheart, your Pesci impression really isn’t as good as you think it is. You’d need to be taller and a lot less cute.

Michaela: *blows a raspberry*

Cupid: Matt, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Michaela?

Matt: Other than the demon trying to kill us? Probably dealing with her intimacy issues. Totally worth it, though.

Michaela: You’re sweet, Frank, but you’re full of crap.

Matt: Hey! You did have issues. Still do about some things.

Michaela: I meant about me being worth it. You got complaints?

Matt: *grinning* Not a damn one!

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Michaela: Well, there are the… You know… *whispers* Pixies.

Matt: They really did do their best to help us out. I never really got to thank Ricardo for his help… *facepalm* Oh, hell.

Ricardo: Matthew! My help, she is my gift to you both!

Michaela: *looking around panicked* Ricardo, where’s…

Ricardo: Oh, my X? I am making with the calling of him now! X! Our Matthew and Michaela, they want to give us thanks!

Cupid: Pardon, Ricardo, but… Fairy Godfathers?

X: Problem, dawg? Ricky gots to get him his Jimmy Choos, and I gots to get cheddar for that. Them things ain’t cheap.

Ricardo: *flits over to X, whispers in his ear*

X: *settles back on Matt’s shoulder* K, C-dawg, Ricky say he don’t want me hook you just now, ‘cause he want a favor from you. He triflin’ but he my shawty, so I gots to chill.

Cupid: Ah, right… Moving on. I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Michaela, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Matt would _____?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Michaela: *blushes* Oh, I really don’t have any complaints. Matt’s the… experimental one.

X: You try that thing Ricky do with his wings yet?

Michaela: What? What thing is that?

X: Oh, yeah, you ain’t seen that. You start hoverin’, then Matt…

Cupid: Okay then! Pardon, X…

X: Dat Baron X. I a made G, dawg.

Cupid: Baron X, then. I think you missed that ‘PG-13’ warning at the start of our interview.

X: What, you got kids watching this? You whilin’ dawg. OK. Kids, don’t do drugs.

Cupid: Okay, then… Matt, would you prefer to give Michaela a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Matt: A bubble bath, I think. Simple reason; we’ve never tried that before. We’re both fairly practical. We’ve got a shower at our place, but no tub.

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Newlywed Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Matt, what would Michaela say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Matt: *grins hugely* Oh, no question. Caramel.

Cupid: Michaela, is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Michaela: *blushes furiously* Uh, yeah. Yeah, no. I don’t think I would have answered that way in a million years. I dunno, maybe I’d say lasagna. His parents make a mean lasagna.

Matt: But you smell of caramel, Michaela.

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Matt, what would Michaela say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is she correct in that assumption?

Matt: *pauses in thought* I’m pretty sure she’d say something that’s really not PG-13. She’s very direct. She’d be right, though.

Michaela: Frank! I wouldn’t say anything like that! Not in public, anyhow.

Cupid: Michaela, as far as you know, what is Matt’s idea of a perfect date?

Michaela: *giggles* I… I’d say… *laughs uncontrollably*

Cupid: Is she okay?

Michaela: *wheezing a little* I’m fine, really. I’m fine. Intimidating the local criminal element, followed by dinner at his godparents. We can skip the play at the end, though.

Cupid: That’s…Unique. Matt, is she right? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Matt: Oh, yeah. It’s unique all right. It’s also a lot of fun. I’d still go see a play or movie at the end if she wanted though.

Cupid: Matt, your turn in the hot seat. What is Michaela’s idea of a perfect date?

Matt: Intimidating the local criminal element, followed by dinner and a movie. Or maybe skip the movie and go somewhere just as dark, but with a little privacy.

Cupid: Michaela, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Michaela: Remember that sticky story? Yeah. I’m not commenting on going dark places with Matt. Especially since he doesn’t bother to turn the lights off.

Matt: Why would I? You’re pretty.

X: Yeah, Angel, Ricky and I ain’t even about girls and we think you smokin’.

Ricardo: My X, he is right as always.

Michaela: Guys! No fair ganging up on me!

Cupid: Okay then. Moving on, the next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Michaela: It’s not what most people would consider ‘romantic’, but going after a Lord of Hell with his bare hands when she’d killed me… That was really something. Calling me back was nothing to sneeze at either.

Matt: Yeah, I guess it would take a lot to explain, but… When she said “I’m sorry.”

Cupid: “I’m sorry?” That’s not terribly romantic.

Matt: Well… She was throwing herself on a bomb that was about to kill my godparents when she said it. She was apologizing that she couldn’t stay with me.

Cupid: But you’re together now?

Michaela: I got better.

Matt: *groaning* I should never have shown her Monty Python.

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Michaela: Issues. I’ve got them. They’re not fun, especially when I don’t know where all of the landmines are.

Matt: It might be nice if both of us could fly.

Michaela: Seriously? You can change one thing and you pick that?

Matt: *shrugs* You’d already mentioned the issues thing, and you’ll get over those in your own good time.

Cupid: That’s sweet. Possibly diabetic even. Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Michaela: Not yet. I can’t wait to see what Frank has planned, really.

Matt: Yeah, most of what we’ve done has either been family stuff, work stuff, life threatening, or sticky. Not that I mind ‘sticky’ as a Valentine’s tradition, but I was hoping for something more romantic to go along with.

Ricardo: You could come visit us! My X, he has the cutest island, she is right down near Bermuda!

X: Yeah, we gots to jet. You come by the crib, we’ll hang. You can even bring the Greek if he’s looking to vaca. He’s not half bad lookin’ hey Ricky?

Cupid: Okay then! Thanks to Matt and Michaela for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story, What Not to Fear.

To learn more about Matt and Michaela’s author, Robert C Roman, visit: http://www.robertcroman.com/



Blurb:

Michaela Miles is the Philly’s best detective. Sometimes her methods are medieval, but that's not surprising. Michaela has been fighting evil for nearly four hundred years.
George Matthew Franklin, Matt to his friends, is on the cutting edge of forensic science. He has been paired up with the city's best detective to prove what the new techniques can do. There's only one problem: he won't find much evidence if he can't take his eyes off his new partner.

Michaela and Matt make enemies, because Bad Guys don’t like detectives or investigators. Demons and Fae, Vampires and Thugs, none of them can get away with misbehaving when these two are on the case. When they all join forces to take vengeance, everyone involved will learn that there are always worse things to fear.

Excerpt:

“You wanted to see me, captain?”

“Have a seat, detective.”

“I prefer to stand.”

The captain’s response was dry, his lips forced into a rueful smile, “I didn’t ask. We might be here a while, and I don’t want you looming over me while we talk.”

“Oh, please. You’re nearly as tall as me sitting.”

“You have exceptional talent at looming. Sit.”

The owner of the beautiful voice sighed, a sound like wind in virgin forest. “Whatever.” Matt heard one of the cheap office chairs give the tiniest squeak, as if a child had perched on it. “Why isn’t Frankenstein sitting down?”

The captain’s voice took on the clipped tones of a parent dealing with a particularly frustrating child. “He doesn’t loom, and we haven’t been making small talk.”

“Doesn’t loom? He’s a mountain! How does a mountain not loom in an office the size of a walk in closet?”

“Inspector Franklin, it appears the detective is intimidated by you. Please, have a seat.”

Matt knew when an invitation was an order. Gingerly, he settled himself onto a chair opposite the detective. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of…

Beauty. Perfection. An angelic visage gazed at him and found him wanting. Features too even to be real stared back at him, formed of skin like milk and framed by broad curls of jet. Lips the color of carnation petals moved, and her voice filled the room again.

“Captain, why is the creepy scarecrow staring at me?”

Thursday, February 24, 2011

TWILIGHT THURSDAY


A CUPID INTERVIEW

My guests today are, Emily Pawes and Captain Alan Silvestri – please, have a seat on our lovely couch! – from the lovely pirate haven of Tortuga, in the Kraken’s Caribbean. Their tale can be found in The Kraken’s Mirror a novel creation by Maureen O. Betita.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, Captain Silvestri, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or hers?

Silvestri: Excuse me, you paired us up? I hate to disappoint you, but my dearest Emily was brought to Tortuga by the Great Albino Kraken. I had no idea he was such a romantic, but evidently, he knew this woman was for me!

Cupid: (glares a moment at the pirate before turning to the woman) Emily, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Emily: First sight? That’s a bit complicated. I’d been blind blasted for watching the vampires waltz and when he ‘rescued’ me I never actually saw him. I had no idea what he looked like, but he had a friendly voice and he felt nice and he said all the right things. (casts a look at the pirate) And wrong things. If I’d known he was the enemy of the crew who’d taken me in and sheltered me, I’d have likely found him repulsive. (snickers) Or not! He knows how to…kiss a woman…

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Emily: When I found myself facing the bi…uh, terrible woman…who had cursed him, I’d just had my heart broken so working with him was the last thing on my mind. But the alternative of freezing to death and watching a friend fall under her spell… I did what needed to be done. Of course, I’d been set up.

Silvestri: I didn’t set you up! I tried to keep you from her palace, I wanted Mick to help me. Putting you in danger was never part of the plan!

Emily: No! Just Mick! Da…nged pirate!

Silvestri: Now now, it all worked out… As for how I felt when I realized I needed Emily to work with Mick and I to break my curse and save us all…I was terrified she’d balk. Or get hurt. I also knew she’d do it, because she is a singularly loyal woman. (tilts head at Emily, who sighs and smiles crookedly)

Cupid: This one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Emily: I suspected it, but after he shattered my heart to pieces…(snorts at Silvestri) Honestly, not until I’d returned to my time and world did I realize that even if he drove me insane, I didn’t want to live without him.

Silvestri: (smiles at her and takes her hand, winks) I knew long before that. I knew after Emily spent a night on my ship, The Immortal, that I cared for her more deeply than I could admit.

Emily: It was when I kicked you, right? (laughs)

Silvestri: I think it was when you soothed me after my nightmare.

Emily: Oh, yeah…when you got all secretive the next day. *snort

Silvestri: I had a lot on my mind, realizing I had fallen in love? (Emily smiles in forgiveness)

Cupid: Captain Silvestri, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Emily.

Captain Silvestri: Her conviction that one (hold up a finger), she was too old for a passionate relationship. And (holds up two fingers), she was convinced I was a delusion and she was insane.

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Emily: (glances at Silvestri, leans close to him) He thinks he brought us together, he really does!

Silvestri: (whispers back) Humor him.

Emily: (leans back and smiles brightly) Oh, well, the Great Albino Kraken and … Captain Jezebel, who I think knew we were secretly meeting and looked the other way.

Silvestri: Mama Lu, the Tortuga magic woman and my dear friend, who counseled me on how to court this stubborn woman.

Cupid: I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Emily, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Captain Silvestri would _____?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Emily: You said this was a PG13 interview! (she thinks a moment then slowly smirks) Play cards with me again.

Silvestri laughs wickedly.

Cupid: Cards. (Looks from one to the other, Emily is looking totally innocent while Silvestri’s eyes have narrowed and he is stroking his beard) Something tells me these were special cards. Captain Silvestri, would you prefer to give Emily a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Silvestri: The last bath I gave her proved quite distracting and rewarding!

Emily raises hand: Massage!

Silvestri considers: How about a …front massage?

Emily blushes and slowly lowers hand.

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Newlywed Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Silvestri, what would Emily say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Silvestri replies without pause: Green apples.

Cupid: Emily, is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Emily: Oh, he’s right! What would I say? (tilts her head a moment, thinking) Wine?

Silvestri’s rebuttal, if there is one: Or rum.

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Silvestri, what would Emily say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is she correct in that assumption?

Silvestri: I think she’d say…touching my lips with her fingers. And she’d be right.

Emily’s rebuttal, if there is one: I’d have said using my lips to touch something else, but I’m sticking to the PG13 rating.

Cupid: Emily, as far as you know, what is Silvestri’s idea of a perfect date?

Emily chuckles: Kidnapping the woman he’s interested in, keeping her tied up, bathing her… Oh, yeah. PG13.

Cupid: Captain, is she correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Silvestri: In some circumstances, yes. But I actually prefer starting with a swim in a fresh water pool, nude.

Cupid: Silvestri, your turn in the hot seat. What is Emily’s idea of a perfect date?

Silvestri: Ah! A picnic by a fresh water pool, followed by swimming, nude, and sleeping after a nice long evening of dalliance under the stars.

Cupid: Emily, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Emily: I hate to say this, but he is. (leans close, “Let’s visit the pools at Caicos, soon!”) He nods with a smile.

Cupid: The next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Emily: Find me after I left Tortuga. Trust me, he came a long, long way!

Silvestri: Agree to the placement of a lovely bit of jewelry. (winks)

Emily: PG13! Remember! (blushes and hugs herself with a rueful shake of her head)

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Emily: I wish he weren’t so bossy.

Silvestri: I wish she’d understand I’m not being bossy. I’m just being the captain.

Cupid: Sounds like a long standing argument! Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Emily: Nope, but I’m requesting chocolates and a trip to the pools at the Caicos.

Silvestri: What is Valentine’s Day?

Emily snorts: I’ll explain later, dolt.

Cupid: Thanks to Captain Alan Silvestri and Emily Pawes for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story, The Kraken’s Mirror. Available now from Decadent Publishing!

To learn more about Silvestri and Emily’s author, Maureen O. Betita, visit: http://www.maureenobetita.com/



Hi, I’m Maureen O. Betita and I’m a new author with Decadent Publishing. They will soon be releasing The Kraken’s Mirror, an erotic romance set in a Tortuga straight from my imagination.

Here’s a blurb from The Kraken’s Mirror, featuring piratepunk (my personal name for the genre I write) and Silvertons! Which are H/H who never move past their prime, no matter their age.

Treated by our youth oriented society as invisible and sexless Emily Pawes attends a pirate festival to recapture the make believe magic she knew as a younger woman. She wins an interesting bit of booty at an old woman's bric-a-brac stand. The Kraken's mirror is a magical portal and transports her to a land of Hollywood piratitude, where swashbuckling heroes own iPods. With little choice, she embraces the madness, deciding she’ll play pirate until she figures out how to get home. Or wakes up in a padded cell.

Instead of men in little white coats, she encounters the handsome Captain Alan Silvestri. He is a man haunted by a strange curse. Good luck is his to command, but it comes at the cost of any place to call home or people to call family. Resigned to die shunned by all, forced to sail every three days, he begins to dream of a special woman.

When they meet, sparks fly, passion flares. He needs her to be free, but more than that, he needs her to be whole. They set sail, uncertain of who has control of the wheel, seeking to defeat his curse of good luck and discover all the Kraken’s mirror plans for them.


Excerpt – This takes place after Emily has been blind blasted and is ‘rescued’ by Silvestri, quite prepared to take advantage of her condition. ;-)

The enigmatic woman turned away from him, chuckling.

“Oh, relishing the clichés. I’m…Pawes. Call me Pawes.” She held out a hand, moving it side to side as if searching for him.

“Ah, women do like to take their time.” He pressed a quick kiss on her knuckles and slowly released her.

He detected a slight hesitation before she nodded. “Yes. While men generally are in a hurry.” She turned her face toward him. “And you?”

“Call me Alan, Miss Pawes.”

“No, Pawes or Mrs. Pawes if you like, please.” Drawing a deep breath, she tried to focus on him, then winced, closing her eyes tightly. “You were behind me. Why didn’t it hit you?”

“Because I was behind you, but I twisted my face away in time. Let me escort you somewhere quiet and buy you a drink.”

“Are your intentions honorable?” Her head tilted.

“Of course not, but not actually dishonorable. I promise to warn you if driven to some despicable bit of deviltry.” He must have impressed her, because a smile danced across her face, that upward tilt of her lips to the left exactly as he remembered from his dreams. He wondered if the rest of the details were the same.




Website: http://www.maureenobetita.com/
I blog at
http://www.romancewritersrevenge.com/ (as 2nd Chance every Friday)
http://www.castles&guns.com/ (every other Tuesday)
http://believinginsecondchances.typepad.com/2nd-chances (every Sunday)

I’m on Facebook and Twitter

You can't be a pest.

She falls through the glass
Sails with Hollywood pirates
Discovers her self

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Wistful Wednesday

Let's Talk About Love


What is love without some heartfelt declarations of the emotion? Nothing, I tell you. So let us explore some fine examples of literary declarations of love. Let us start with the letter in which Captain Wentworth declares his affections for Anne Elliot in Jane Austen's wonderful little novel, Persuasion:


I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.


Now there was a man who knew how to declare himself, don't you agree? You pierce my soul, indeed!

And how about these little displays of affection?





I hope you enjoyed these little displays of love and affection! Until next time...

Sunday, February 20, 2011

SUPERNATURAL SUNDAY


A CUPID INTERVIEW


My guests today are, Andy McDonald and Sara Miller– please, have a seat on our lovely couch! Their tale can be found in Horsing Around a novel creation by Shiela Stewart.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, Andy, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or hers?

Andy: We met through an on-line sex dating service, which I just have to say I was reluctant to participate in. If Sandy, my ranch hand, hadn’t pushed me I wouldn’t have joined Carnal Desires. Hell if I’m gonna tell her thank you though, but I am glad I joined. Anyway, the first time we set eyes on each other was at Mistress Bella’s Hotel, The Desire Inn.

Cupid: Sara, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Sara: (Laughs) I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight but I sure liked what I saw. Andy opened his hotel room door wearing nothing but a smile and a towel around his hips. Let me tell you. The picture he sent in that was placed on the Carnal Desires website did not do him justice. Yummy! (g)

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Andy: I don’t know, sugar. Too personal?

Sara: Hell no! I’ll tell it. After Andy and I first met and boy what a first meeting…(clears throat) He took me to his ranch. This place is gorgeous. Wide open fields, grass so green it looks painted and a house that is breath taking. Andy had planned to take me horseback riding but a few ranch hands were sick and Andy was needed to help. I volunteered to help muck out stalls. Now keep in mind we had only just met a few hours earlier, but there was something that just clicked with us and I had no problem helping Andy out with his chores. Well, I just have to say—keeping it PG and all—I’ve never had so much fun mucking out a stall as I did working with Andy.

Andy: I worked her hard!! (snicker)

Cupid: *raises eyebrows* This one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Andy: I think we’re still working on that part. Right, sugar?

Sara: Oh yes, and working on it daily, if you know what I mean. (g) but I think I knew after the stall mucking that he was a keeper not just because he—worked me hard—but because hed never taken any of his girlfriends to his ranch on the first date before.

Cupid: Andy, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Sara?

Andy: Trust. The women I had dated before were flighty. The instant they found out I had money they were clingy and insistent that I buy them everything. As I said, I was reluctant to sign up for Carnal Desires because I thought that as soon as the women knew I had money, it would be the same old same old. But Sara is different.

Sara: His money doesn’t impress me. He’s much more than a dollar sign. Much, much more, if you know what I mean. **wink**

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Sara: Mistress Bella. If it wasn't for her dating service I never would have met this wonderful hunk of a man.
Andy: Yeah, yeah, same with me. Bella is great!

**Sara nudges Andy** What about Sandy? If it hadn’t been for her, you never would have known about the website.

Andy: I already told you, I’m not thanking her. It’ll just go to her head.

Cupid: I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Sara, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Andy would _____?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Sara: Take me here and now!

Cupid: Andy, would you prefer to give Sara a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Andy: Damn, Cupid, you ask that and want me to keep it PG? Shoot, I’ll do both cause I just can’t keep my hands of this little lady. Her skin is like satin and her brea—see, hard to keep it PG.

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Newlywed Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Andy, what would Sara say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Andy: Her perfume. It drives me wild.

Cupid: Sara, is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Sara: Oh yeah. Every time I wear White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor he goes wild. I’m talking taking me right where I stand, wild. LOL

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Andy, what would Sara say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is she correct in that assumption?

Andy: See again, PG. Um…Let’s just say I enjoy being bad and she enjoys punishing me.

Sara: You got that right baby. LOL

Cupid: Sara, as far as you know, what is Andy’s idea of a perfect date?

Sara: Horseback riding then a steak dinner.

Cupid: Andy, is she correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Andy: Hell yeah!

Cupid: Andy, your turn in the hot seat. What is Sara’s idea of a perfect date?

Andy: **Glances at Sara, smiles** Horseback riding, a late dinner then a long walk in the moonlight.

Cupid: Sara, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Sara: Aw…he’s so right. **Leans in and kisses Andy**

Cupid: The next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Heroine: He made me breakfast in bed. Omelet, Mimosa, strawberries and a rose on my tray.

Andy: Sara bought one of my foals and names it Mac, after me. **he links his hands with Sara’s**

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Sara: I wouldn’t change a thing

Andy: I would. **Andy gets down on one knee** Sara Miller, will you do the honor of becoming my wife?” **Flips open a ring case**

Sara: Oh my god, Andy! Look at that ring, look at you, on one knee. How can I say no? **She wraps her arms around his neck and smothers him with kisses.

Cupid: *grins* Damn, I'm good at making love matches. Ahem! On with the interview…Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Sara: **Admiring the diamond on her finger** This will be our first.

Andy: Of many…

Cupid: Thanks to Andy and Sara for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story, Horsing Around.

To learn more about Sara and Andy’s author, Shiela Stewart, visit: http://www.shielasbooks.ca/



BLURB:

Sara Miller needs a real man. One who can give her what she desires—in and out of bed. So far, none have met her expectations. She’s hoping all that will change after submitting her application to Carnal Desire’s internet dating service.

As the owner of several prize-winning horses and more money than he knows what to do with, Andy McDonald has it all. Except for the love a good woman. He’s sick of flighty bimbos wanting only his money and not satisfying his sexual desires. After a friend pressures him into looking online for a woman, Andy gives in and submits his application.

Sex takes on a new twist when Sara and Andy get together and nothing is taboo.

EXCERPT:

Then he spoke.

"Well howdy, ladies."

Her heart calmed. His slight Southern drawl, with its deep resonance, was soothing and somewhat relaxing. And very arousing. She loved a man with an accent, and even though Andy’s was faint, it was still enough to turn her on. Between her legs, her flesh began to swell and moisten.

"Good afternoon, Andy. Looks like we caught you in the middle of your shower."

He stroked the damp sandy-blond hair from his face and Sara nearly swooned. "I just stepped out. I’m running a bit behind, I’m afraid." He turned his attention to Sara and her pulse pounded in her ears. "Pleasure to meet you in person, Sara."

She took the hand he held out to her; he completely surprised her when he turned her hand over and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "Pleasure’s mine." Like tiny electrical charges zapping every sensitive nerve in her body, he had her quivering with that one simple gesture.

"Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable while I go change."

He stepped aside to let them in and as Sara walked past him, the scent of the woods after a light rain shower wafted off him, like fresh, aromatic greenery touched by a kiss of sunlight. She was going to have no problem at all being with this man.

She and Bella headed to the sitting area of the suite while Andy headed to the bedroom. It was spacious, and came complete with a mini kitchen, sitting area, TV and plush sofa and chair. Almost identical to her own suite.

"Pretty easy on the eyes, isn’t he?"

Sara smiled at Bella’s comment, taking a seat on the sofa. "I’m not having any trouble looking at him."

"And what better first meeting than to see him practically naked." Bella winked and beamed a huge grin. "Well, I’ll leave the two of you to get acquainted now. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Thank you so much, Mistress Bella."

"I love making people happy. I’m heading out, Andy," she shouted at the bedroom door.

"Catch you later, sugar." He stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt just as Bella left the suite. "Looks like it’s just you and me now, doll."

God, he was going to make her come, just by speaking. "Looks like.” She got to her feet. “So…how should we start this?"

"Let’s start with this as an opener."

He swung his arm around her waist and she gasped when he yanked her against his chest.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

STARLIGHT SATURDAY


A CUPID INTERVIEW


My guests today are, the very famous Ichabod Crane and Brom Bones – please, have a seat on our lovely couch! – from the village of Tarry Town which is right next to the notorious Sleepy Hollow. Their tale can be found in THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW a novel creation of the classic story as retold by Deanna Wadsworth.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

Ichabod: Well, I suppose that means I will probably have to do all the talking.

Brom: And that is different how? *chuckles at Ichabod’s wry look*

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, Ichabod, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or hers?

Ichabod: Firstly, Cupid I don’t believe you had anything to do with our match since there are no such thing as a Cupid. The only one to blame was Brom Bones himself.

Brom: *bows* Some of my best work.

Cupid: >*ignoring Ichabod’s jibe* Brom, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Brom: Well, I wouldn’t have gone to such elaborate means if I found him repulsive *laughs* But I sure did love tormenting him. One time I smoked out his school house. You should have seen how he yelled.

Ichabod: Positively incorrigible *pretends to be blustering but can’t hide his smile*

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Ichabod: Brom kidnapped me while impersonating the Headless Horseman! I can tell you that chaotic happenstance had nothing to do with it. Brom is a schemer. He planned the entire ruse, even tying me to his bed, just to gain my attention

Brom: *laughing* Well, how else was I to let you know how I felt about you? You ignored me at every chance. You see, Cupid, ours was a love/hate sort of association. A battle of who should be on top…if you will.

Ichabod: That, I suppose, is a very interesting way to put it, Brom.

Cupid: This one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Brom: The first time I saw Ichabod leaving a certain Inn in Tarry Town, I knew he must be mine. There was never a doubt in my mind. I only had to devise a way to make Ichabod see that I was right.

Ichabod: Which is why you had to chase me on that dreadful black horse of yours, instead of just approaching me like a normal person.

Brom: *gives Ichabod a lecherous wink* All that scheming is why you love me.

Ichabod: Yes, I must truly be as mad as you. I knew that Brom and I would be together the day we schemed to smite the Headless Horseman. It was really one of our best schemes to date. The entire night I was sure that Brom was secretly working with Miss Katrina Van Tassel. But when he turned down her hand in marriage and all her wealth *smiles at Brom* well, then I knew.

Cupid: Ichabod, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Brom?

Ichabod: You see, Brom was always playing one trick on me after another. So I had to be sure that his affection was not just another elaborate trick. When I learned his antics were really nothing more than the actions like rotten boys in my classes who stick a girl’s pigtail in the ink well to get her attention, then I realized his affection was true.

Brom: That wooden paddle didn’t hurt, either.

Ichabod: *blushing* Quiet about that!

Brom: *laughs loudly*

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Brom: My horse Daredevil. If he weren’t the fastest beast in all of New York, I never would have been able to catch my prize

Ichabod: *shudders* Beastly animal. You should see it. It looks like it came from the pits of Hell

Cupid: I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Ichabod, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Brom would _____?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Ichabod: You really are quite nosey.

Cupid: *sniff* I always knew you eighteenth century Puritans were prudes. Brom? Would you prefer to give Ichabod a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Brom: *scratches chin thoughtfully* Probably a massage. He makes the most delightful noises.

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Dating Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Ichabod, what would Brom say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Ichabod: *still embarrassed and flustered by Brom’s remark* Heavens, I don’t know. A bit of rope?

Cupid: *grinning* Brom? Is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Brom: *laughing* No, but I will make note of that. I would have said a buffet heavily laden with food. Ichabod has an appetite that borders on the voracity of an anaconda. A well fed Ichabod is a happy Ichabod, in every way.

Ichabod: *nods in acquiescence* True, true, Brom. But since the both of you are determined to be so gauche, I had assumed you would have answered more lewdly, Brom.

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Well, let’s get a little—what did you call it, Ichabod?—more gauche. Brom, what would Ichabod say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is he correct in that assumption?

Brom: *looks at Ichabod* I probably am not allowed to answer that, am I?

Ichabod: You most certainly are not.

Cupid: Fair enough. The next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Ichabod: Brom would probably answer that his most romantic act was impersonating the Headless Horseman and spiriting me off to his hunting cabin to have his way with me

Brom: *laughing* I would

Ichabod: That would not be the answer though. He traveled all the way to Boston just a few weeks back and I knew nothing about his real plans. He had gone to acquire the services of a most famous chef. That woman can bake things you have never dreamed of.

Brom: *takes Ichabod’s hand in his* See? The way to his heart is through his stomach

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Brom: That where we live, people might be more accepting of us as a couple. Right now all of our neighbors think we are cousins. It’s why we like to visit this time and chat with you folks on the internet. We can be ourselves

Ichabod: Well said, Brom. Hiding everything all the time is quite bothersome.

Cupid: I can imagine that would make things difficult. Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Brom: None we are probably allowed to talk about in this interview. Not without—what did you call it?—keeping it PG-13

Cupid: Thanks to Ichabod Crane and Brom Bones for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story, THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW


Deanna Wadsworth leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her hubby of 14 years and three demanding little dogs. She has a fascination with the exotic and taboo but it is her love of love in all its stages and incarnations which made her an erotica and m/m author.
You can find her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001206469235#!/profile.php?id=100001206469235
Blog: http://deannawadsworth.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4264579.Deanna_Wadsworth

And you can buy her books here:
http://www.decadentpublishing.com/advanced_search_result.php?osCsid=6c1232251c1e45744bd0b3ee7262f414&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&pfrom=0&pto=999999&dfrom=&dto=&manufacturers_id=19

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Deanna+Wadsworth&x=0&y=0

If you would please, post a comment, Deanna will be drawing one lucky winner and giving you a copy of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. So please, if you have any questions or comments for Ichabod and Brom, or even Deanna! Comment away!!!

If you don’t win this drawing, you can still be a winner!

All day today and tomorrow over at Rainbow eBooks http://www.rainbowebooks.com/ you can download Deanna’s m/m short story SECRET SANTA for FREE!!! And every dollar you spend on the site this weekend will enter you in a chance to win a copy of THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW!

Friday, February 18, 2011

PHANTASM FRIDAY

A CUPID INTERVIEW

My guests today are, Police Inspector Michael Devane and Bethany Bradshaw-Devane – please, have a seat on our lovely couch! – from London. Their tale can be found in OUT OF HELL and AN UNSPOKEN BETRAYAL, a novel creation by Denysé Bridger.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, Michael, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or hers?

Michael: I was called into investigate the murder of her husband, she was my prime suspect, initially.

Cupid: Bethany, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Bethany: I think if I am very honest it was love at first sight, though in my distress, I didn’t recognize it for a very long time.

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Bethany: My husband was murdered, quite brutally, and I remembered nothing. Michael understood, and he was very kind to me.

Michael: It was easy to be kind to such a gentle creature as Bethany. Bradshaw was a bastard, and abusive, if she had killed him, I don’t think I would have ever allowed the truth to be told.

Cupid: This one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Bethany: I knew long before the real killer was discovered, though I was desperately afraid for Michael while he investigated. Michael saw me for who I really am, and he accepted and understood me, how could any woman not love a man such as that?

Michael: *smiling* As I learned more about Bethany’s husband and what sort of man he was, I knew my admiration and respect for her strength and courage was mutating into something much deeper. But, I was an opium addict then, and there are things in my soul that I wouldn’t taint anyone so lovely with, so I resisted for a time.

Cupid: Michael, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Bethany?

Michael: My fears from my failed first, the social class that separated us. My job in many ways. I had to prove her innocence for many reasons, and once that was done, I had to accept that the only thing that could ever keep us apart was me. She was braver than I, she was willing to defy conventions. I followed her and learned a great deal about courage from her quiet strength. She is a remarkable woman.

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Bethany: *laughing* In a very strange and perhaps morbid way, my husband Robert, for having the misfortune to be killed in a way gruesome enough to warrant the attention of Inspector Michael Devane.

Michaal: You can’t forget your father, of course. Sadly, in the end, he did hang for orchestrating the crime of murder.

Cupid: I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Bethany, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Michael would allow me to work more closely with him on some of his cases?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Michael: Absolutely not! The Whitechapel District is no place to bring any woman who is cherished and loved.

Cupid: Michael, would you prefer to give Bethany a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Michael: A bubble bath, of course, where I could bathe her with the reverence she deserves, and of course join her myself.

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Newlywed Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Michael, what would Bethany say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Michael: *grinning* I think she would say she is my aphrodisiac.

Cupid: Bethany, is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Bethany: He is right.

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Michael, what would Bethany say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is she correct in that assumption?

Michael: There are two spots, the side of my neck, just here *indicates the spot near the pulse point* The other would be the spot just below my bottom lip, she does things with her tongue... *squirms a little in his seat* ...well, perhaps that’s answer enough.

Bethany: Always the gentleman, darling.

Cupid: Bethany, as far as you know, what is Michael’s idea of a perfect date?

Bethany: A night where we will stay at home together, perhaps sitting close to the fire, we will have dinner, wine, and make love. The servants have learned to leave us alone unless there is something of a dire emergency.

Cupid: Michael, is she correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Michael: I can’t think of anything more perfect that the evenings we have spent just as Bethany describes.

Cupid: Michael, your turn in the hot seat. What is Bethany’s idea of a perfect date?

Michael: I’m afraid in this instance we most definitely share the same desire.

Cupid: Bethany, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Bethany: *laughing* Yes, he is. We have settled into marriage well, I’m afraid, very little of the rebel in our passion for each other. I do know we are talked about in many circles, but I suspect that is more envy than disapproval anymore.

Cupid: The next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Bethany: He saved me from the abuse and degradation of my first husband. Perhaps not romantic in the tradition sense, but to me, it is the most loving thing anyone has ever done. He also took me shopping in Paris on our honeymoon and selected some very scandalous undergarments which I wear for him often.

Michael: The most romantic thing? *thinks for a moment then smiles* Shortly before we were married, I arrived at my apartment to find her there. Candles were lit, a lovely dinner had been prepared. She undressed me and led me to a hot bath, waited on me, then stripped her own clothes off and joined me in the bath. That night, Bethany gave herself to me completely. I will never forget it. Is this interview almost over?

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Bethany: He doesn’t have to be so protective.

Michael: She doesn’t have to be quite so independent.

Cupid: Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Bethany: We go back to the hotel where we used to meet when Michael was still investigating my husband’s murder. It reminds us in some way of the excitement and terror we felt at being discovered. It’s quite exciting!

Michael: We also shop for gifts together, and often go to the theatre, but without friends in attendance. Not that we have many, we have been somewhat shunned by Bethany’s peers.

Cupid: Thanks to Michael and Bethany for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story, The Devane Files: OUT OF HELL and The Devane Files: AN UNSPOKEN BETRAYAL.

To learn more about (hero/heroine's) author, Denysé Bridger, visit: www.denysebridger.com

Thursday, February 17, 2011

TWILIGHT THURSDAY


A CUPID INTERVIEW

My guests today are Ayden barn Vaska and Prince Freyrík Farr – please, have a seat on our lovely couch! – from Vaenn and Farr Province, respectively. Their tale can be found in Counterpoint: Book I of Song of the Fallen, a novel creation by Rachel Haimowitz.

Before we begin, I must remind everyone to please try and keep your responses to a PG13 atmosphere – the Moonlight Mistresses rules, not mine *eye roll*. Double entendres are acceptable and widely encouraged for events and phrases we don’t want our young readers to really know about. Oooh, it will be so much fun trying to guess what you’re really saying!

*Settling comfortably onto the sofa, draping his arm over the back and sipping his bubbly* That Miss Havana in Reaper’s Domain is one hot teacher and boy would I love to get into her…class! I might actually learn something…oh…did I say that out loud? *Clears throat* Sorry. Let’s get back to the interview.

You two make one fine pair! I did a wonderful job pairing you two up if I do say so myself! Then, I just love all of my matches!

Cupid: Please, Prince Freyrík, tell our readers how you two first met. Was it by your design, or his?

Freyrík: ‘Twas his, I suppose, and not such an auspicious start: he trespassed upon my lands and killed sixteen of my soldiers. When at last he was captured, they brought him to me.

Cupid: Ayden, would you say it was love at first sight or did you find him repulsive?

Ayden: HAH! ‘Twas murder at first sight, for I was fighting for my sister’s life and my own. And then for the safety of my people; the brute interrogated me.

Cupid: This one’s for both of you. Since chaotic happenstance tends to put characters like yourselves in situations where they must work together or live together for one reason or another, tell us what chaotic happenstance “forced” the two of you to work or live together. How did you feel about this?

Ayden: In retrospect, ‘twas my sister’s foolishness that brought us together. She stole across the border to visit human friends, as she is wont to do. And I followed to keep her safe, for a Surge was cresting, and the human army was out in force. Too much force; I could not overcome them all. ‘Twas fortunate for us both that the prince is such an . . . enlightened human, for though he could not free us, he kept us well on condition of good behavior. ‘Twas fair unbearable, but over time I came to see Rik for the good man that he is—an exemplar of his species and one to be respected.

Freyrík: Ayden is too modest. What he hasn’t mentioned is his aid in victory against the dark race that has plagued our borders for three hundred years. I must admit I’m not proud of holding his sister against his cooperation in battle planning, but even as much as I love Ayden now, I am a ruler of my people, and the welfare of my kingdom must come before my own heart or pride. Ayden’s battle strategy saved many thousands of lives, and though he worked his damndest to make himself difficult and unlikable, we somehow grew past it. For this, and for everything he has done and sacrificed and gifted to me, I am forever grateful.

Cupid: This one is also for both of you. How long did it take you to know your true feelings for the other? At what point did you know, “this is the one”?

Ayden: ‘Twas a difficult road for me, for my hatred of all things human was a powerful force, not easily overcome even by a gentle kindness as deep as Rik’s. Let us not forget that he captured me and my sister, held us against our will, interrogated and humiliated me. Yet ‘twas clear he took no pleasure from these acts, showed me every kindness despite my obstinance. ‘Twas also clear he is a fine warrior, to be respected, and his people love him for many a good reason. Though a thousand acts of selfless kindness chipped at my hatred, the true moment for me—the moment when I knew this human was special—was the moment he took to his violin, and weaved such worlds with song as could move you to tears. Music defines and shapes the elven world, and in his music I saw the soul of a man worth loving.

Freyrík: To be honest, I craved Ayden from the moment I laid eyes upon him—as, I’m sure, does nearly everyone else. But he can be a powerfully trying elf, and he tested the limits of my forbearance and beyond for many a week. But as each day passed and I learned of his humor, his cleverness, his mind as sharp as his tongue, his skill on the battlefield, his love and devotion to his sister, I knew there was so much more to this elf than what lay upon the surface.

Cupid: Prince Freyrík, what would you say was your biggest obstacle to overcome before you could settle into a relationship with Ayden?

Freyrík: Definitely the hatred and prejudice of my people. In fact our love must still remain secret, even now.

Cupid: This is for either of you. Would you like to thank anyone – other than me, of course – for getting you two together?

Ayden: Ella, I suppose—my baby sister, the one who crossed the border against all sense and logic and got us into this mess. I do love her for it.

Freyrík: Indeed, I would thank Ella. My secretary, as well, Lord Lini, for his tireless action on our behalf, and his loyalty and wise council.

Cupid: I know our readers have enjoyed learning about you two so far, but I’m getting a little bored, so I’m going to heat things up. Ayden, how would you end this sentence, "I wish Freyrík would _____?" *leans forward to eagerly hear your response*

Ayden: Run away with me to Vaenn. But I know he cannot, for his duty runs deep, and for this I only love him more.

Cupid: I was looking for something a little more tawdry, but that'll do…Prince Freyrík, would you prefer to give Ayden a bubble bath or a back massage? Why?

Freyrík: A bubble bath? What exactly is that? I suppose a back massage then, although I confess there are a great many . . . other things I’d prefer to do with Ayden.

Cupid: How many of you remember that old show, The Dating Game? Well, these next questions are going to help us play a similar game. Price Freyrík, what would Ayden say is your aphrodisiac? *waggles eyebrows*

Freyrík: Him.

Cupid: Ayden, is he right? How would you have answered that question?

Ayden: Nay, I would say it’s that thing I do with—

Freyrík: Ayden!

Cupid: *crosses ankles and rubs his chin* Ayden, what would Freyrík say is a spot guaranteed to drive you crazy with passion? Is he correct in that assumption?

Ayden: He knows me well; he would say my ears, and he would indeed be correct. But ‘tis not just a touch; ‘tis his music as well.

Freyrik: He does so love it when I play for him. It never fails to arouse.

Cupid: Ayden, as far as you know, what is Freyrík’s idea of a perfect date?

Ayden: Peace and quiet. ‘Tis so rare he is ever alone, or unbothered for long with affairs of state.

Cupid: Freyrík, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Freyrík: He is not wrong, as such. But truly, the perfect date for me would be simply to take Ayden out in public, to show the world my love of him with no fear of repercussion.

Cupid: Prince Freyrík, your turn in the hot seat. What is Ayden’s idea of a perfect date?

Freyrík: *laughs* Probably beating me senseless in the sparring ring, then eating a six-course dinner—both his and mine, mind you.

Cupid: Ayden, is he correct? If not, what is your idea of a perfect date?

Ayden: Well, I must admit to a certain . . . fondness for sparring with Rik. And gods know how you humans can subsist on so little food. But, nay, my perfect date would be a long walk through the woods on a sunny day, a swim, a meal by the waterside, just the two of us, no fears or worries.

Cupid: The next two questions are for both of you. What's the most romantic thing your lover has ever done for you?

Ayden: He risked his crown and his life to free my sister and myself. Things did not go so well with my own freedom, alas, but at least I know my sister is home safe, and Rik would have me see myself the same. He is too stubborn to realize the danger.

Freyrík: I’m too stubborn? You— Nay, never you mind. Let us not fight, not here. In answer to your question, Ayden too has sacrificed much for me; never have I felt such love or fear as when he stepped up for the Blód Sekt—knowing it might kill him—to quell rebellion in my kingdom.

Cupid: If you could change one thing about your relationship, what would it be?

Ayden: That is easy: that we would not have to hide ourselves anymore.

Freyrík: Agreed.

Cupid: A excellent request, indeed! Have the two of you had time to settle into any Valentine's Day traditions?

Ayden: Valentine’s Day? Is this some human tradition?

Freyrík: *shakes head* Not of which I’m aware. Alas, I fear we’ve had little time for any tradition. It seems our lives move from one battle to the next, whether on the field or in court. I pray ‘twill not always be so.

Cupid: Thanks to Freyrík and Ayden for joining us today. We hope you’ll check out their story, Counterpoint: Book I of Song of the Fallen.

To learn more about Freyrík and Ayden’s author, Rachel Haimowitz, visit RachelHaimowitz.com.

BIO:

Rachel is an M/M erotic romance author and a freelance writer and editor. She originally dipped her toes into cable news and book publishing, decided the water was cold and smelled kinda funny, and moved on to help would-be authors polish and publish, write for websites and magazines, and ghostwrite nonfiction.

Her first novel, an M/M fantasy erotic romance titled Counterpoint: Book One of Song of the Fallen, released in August 2010 with Guiltless Pleasure Publishing. Her second novel, an M/M alternate-history erotic romance titled Anchored: Belonging Book One, released January 17 with Noble Romance Publishing. Her third, Crescendo: Book II of Song of the Fallen, will release in the fall of 2011. In between, Rachel is writing shorts and novellas, including the M/M BDSM collection Sublime: Collected Shorts, and a not-yet-released cyberpunk novella titled Break and Enter, co-written with Aleksandr Voinov.

You can find Rachel tweeting as RachelHaimowitz, chatting in the Goodreads forums, and blogging at Rachel-Haimowitz.blogspot.com. She loves to hear from folks, so feel free to drop her a line anytime at metarachel (at) gmail (dot) com.





BLURB:

It is the twilight of mankind. Depleted by generations of war with a dark race, the human kingdoms and their ancient alliance stand on the brink of extinction. The outlands are soaked with the blood of the fallen. The midlands are rotting with decadence and despair.
Elfkind, estranged by past crimes, watches and waits for nature to run its course.
And then the two collide.
Ayden's life has long been guided by two emotions: love for his sister, and hatred of all things human. When he's captured in battle, he must for his sister's sake swallow his pride and endure slavery in the service of a human prince. To his dismay, this close-up view of his enemy is nothing like he expected. Now curiosity and contempt make a battlefield of his soul, even as he struggles to pick up the pieces of his shattered worldview.
Freyrik Farr, Crown Prince of Farr Province, finds his new elven prisoner puzzling. He's always known elves to be beautiful and dangerous, but never has one affected him as deeply as Ayden. Can his life of service to his people leave room for this attraction? Dancing on a dagger's edge between duty and high treason, Freyrik discovers that some choices can change a life, and some an entire world.
Between prejudice, politics, pride, and survival, Ayden and Freyrik must carve a new path, no matter how daunting. For nothing less than the fate of both their peoples rests on the power of their perseverance -- and their love.
EXCERPT:

Ayden awoke to wrongness.

He shoved his furs aside and tuned his inner ear to the forest’s song—the bass hum of the trees, the trills of insects—a thousand points of sound merged in near-perfect harmony. He sniffed the air as he listened, detecting nothing but a faint whiff of last night’s cook-fire, the loam of the forest floor, the comforting scents of the massive red cedars and the stream running by his campsite.

And there was the wrongness, the faintest whisper of jagged notes worming through the forest song. Had a human dared to cross into their lands?

Ayden’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a grin entirely void of humor.

Time for a hunt.

He unwove the branches of his shelter with an impatient mental hum and stepped out into the first light of day. A second sound reached his ears then, a physical one this time: dull hoof beats and snapping branches, faint but rising by the moment. The approaching racket might be nothing more than an animal on the hunt, but he dare not take that chance.

He stooped to grab his kit, lashing his furs to his satchel and slinging it and his fighting sticks across his back. Then he dropped a sleeping dart into his blowpipe and once again cast both inner and outer ears to the ruckus rushing closer, closer . . .

And sighed, relieved, when he recognized the sound for what it was: a pair of wild boars tearing down the path to his campsite. He lowered his weapon and tuned his other hearing to the boarsongs, churning crescendos of urgency and blind rage. They were almost upon him already. Ayden spun a soothing melody in his mind, a half-forgotten lullaby, and sent it to weave through the boars’ frantic tempos—

The two boars emerged into the clearing, drawing to a halt not two feet before him, heads bent and hooves pawing at the earth.

“What haste, fierce ones?”

Of course they couldn’t understand him, but it felt good to use his voice again.

Not surprisingly, the boars responded about as intelligently as most people would: one snorted, and the other one squealed.

The squealer took a hesitant step forward and to the side, then stopped again. Its gaze shifted from Ayden to the path beyond and back. Ayden closed his eyes, tried to hear what the boars were hearing, what was driving them forward so urgently. And there it was again, the wrongness, just a whisper yet but a precursor, he knew, of a powerful wail to come: the Hunter’s Call, summoning beasts to twist with hate before siccing them upon the human realms.

“Ah.” Ayden opened his eyes and nodded at the boars. “I’d not discourage you from such a noble task, but you must know the humans will kill you?”

The squealer took another step forward. This time, the snorter joined him.

Who was he to argue with that?

He stepped aside. Freed of his influence, the boars bolted across the clearing and disappeared back into the dense wood.

Ayden took off after them at a hard run. He followed them for hours, even though he knew with fair certainty where they would go. Indeed, they did not disappoint.

The sun had crested the sky by the time they reached the boundary between the elven and Feral lands, where a foot-wide crack cut through the forest like a fatal wound. No life grew near the fissure for twenty paces, the very earth scorched into volcanic rock and great sheets of muddy glass. No elf had crossed the fissure for nearly three centuries. The boars, however, trotted over without pause, drawn inexorably by the Call that wailed like death in Ayden’s inner ear.

Ayden stopped short, loath to set foot or toe upon the deadened earth.

Instead he found the tallest tree at forest’s edge: a massive red cedar, its trunk as big around as twenty of him and its lowest branches a good dozen paces overhead.

“I don’t suppose you’d offer me a hand up?” he asked, placing a hand upon the trunk and trying to coax a branch to bend within his reaching.

Alas, this tree had sung its melody unchanging for over two thousand years, and it had no interest in shifting for a whelp such as he—never mind that he’d seen a century or eight himself.

Ah, well. He hadn’t really thought it would. He fished his steel bearclaws from his satchel, buckled them onto each boot and hand, and started up the trunk the hard way.

Long minutes later, sticky with sap and quivering with fatigue, Ayden broke through the canopy. He dug his farseer from his satchel and peered through the lens. From this new vantage point over a hundred paces high, he could see south across the cultivated human lands for nearly three leagues, and the same distance west across the forest canopy of the Feral lands into the Myrkr Mountains. A few leagues southwest, in the direction the boars had gone, he spotted a dozen crowned eagles gliding over a low mountain peak. No, not just gliding . . . they were circling as a pack, wingtips splayed like fingers on a massive hand.

Crowned eagles never flew in flocks, could barely tolerate each other even when mating. He could hear the wrongness pouring from them in pounding, discordant waves.

Command would wish to know of this. Ayden balanced himself between the trunk and two narrow branches, letting them take his weight, and focused his mind on forming a signal cloud. ’Twas no easy feat for him, a naturally adequate musician at best, to hear the cloudsong so far away and amongst so much noise from the forest below, but at last he detected faint threads of it, high notes jittering chaotic and fast in the upper sky, and he shaped them with his mind into clear lines and measures. Above him, three clouds merged into two and formed the symbol for Ferals and a navigational marker.

He held them as long as he could, gritting his teeth against the strain. But his clouds drifted quickly, and a moment later he gave up, panting, and let them scatter. No matter, though; Command would have seen the signal immediately and understood.

The Surge was building.


Having done all he could for now, he turned his thoughts to a meal, and water, and setting up camp for the night.

Climbing down the massive cedar was, to Ayden’s chagrin, nearly as taxing as climbing up it had been, and it didn’t help that the Call was growing more strident by the hour. Halfway down, a small herd of caribou bucks in full rack raced by his tree and crossed the border. As he reached the ground, a squirrel whizzed by, and he could not help but wonder what harm such a harmless creature could possibly inflict. But the Hunter’s Call would not draw it for nothing; surely it had some purpose.

’Twas not his concern, though. His empty belly, on the other hand, was very much so. Fortunately, he knew these woods well, and before an hour had passed he’d gathered a feast of mushrooms, huckleberries, wild onions, miner’s lettuce, and hazelnuts. There was no water source nearby, but ’twas easy enough, even for him, to draw it from the moist air; he untwined the dewsong from the airsong and guided the trickle into his upturned mouth until his thirst was slaked. He drew more to fill his canteen, then climbed back up to the first branch of the cedar he’d scaled before and unrolled his furs. If he slept on the ground this night, he might very well be trampled. Besides, ’twas best to be prepared should something go wrong: should the Surge for once flow into elven lands, or should the humans, in their desperation or foolishness, try to cross the border themselves.


Ayden woke early and alone, wondering what was taking the others so cracking long. Had they not seen his signal? Or were they simply too lazy to travel through the night?

Regardless, he would be well prepared when they arrived. He emptied his bladder, foraged a quick breakfast and a large store of extras, and packed his kit before the sun had cleared the horizon.

Back atop his cedar, he coaxed the leaves and branches to weave into a hunting blind large enough to camp in. From this perch, he had a clear view of the nearest human village a league to the south, and several leagues of their land beyond it. To the west, he could see a few leagues across the Feral woods until the ridgeline cut his view. He spent the morning watching them both, enjoying the solitude and the late summer weather, the many-layered forest song drowning out the worst of the wrong.

He was jarred from his peace round noon by the urgent clanging of bells to the south, and he snapped his farseer toward the human village, where both the temple bell and the bell atop the Surge fortress were ringing madly. The human occupiers of that sorry patch of borderland were dropping tools and baskets in the fields where they stood and scrambling toward safety. Half a league to their west, a mismatched couple of Ferals—a caribou buck and a wolf—were racing toward them. He couldn’t hear the humans screaming this far off, but he liked to imagine that they were.

The Ferals were gaining quickly on a man and a woman who’d been working a distant field; the humans with their two weak legs could never hope to outrun the four-legged Ferals, but they were certainly trying. The man’s longer stride carried him ahead of the woman, but he paused, ran back to grab her hand, pulled her forward again. How foolish and sweet: they’d die together.

From the east rode two archers on horseback, but Ayden doubted they would make it on time.

And indeed they did not. The woman faltered up a steep hillock, and the Feral wolf caught up with her. She crumpled beneath its lunge without a fight, and Ayden gave the wolf a silent cheer for meting out swift justice.

The male—the stupid fool—stopped again, looked back. Probably screamed the woman’s name. Ayden couldn’t make out his expression or hear his song from here, but clearly he was torn. By the time he realized there was no helping the woman and began to run again, the Feral buck had gained on him. The man took but ten steps before the buck, as large in its twisted form as a plow horse, gored him through the back and tossed him aside. The man hit the ground with the grace of a soldier and rolled to his knees despite the gaping hole in his chest. Ayden watched him pull something from his belt—a knife, he thought, from the glint of sunlight—but the man died before he could use it.

The Ferals trampled his body as they charged past, but didn’t savage it. Instead they raced toward the two riders, then veered off to tackle a man who stood paralyzed in the fields. Ayden fastened his farseer onto him and cursed. ’Twas only a scarecrow. He could see that even from here; how did they not? The cavalry was closing in on them from behind, and he found himself waving the Ferals along—he would have called out to them if he were closer, foolish as that was—but he had no hope of swaying their course. The Ferals charged, leapt, knocked down the scarecrow and sent its head flying.

Then the mounted archers reached their range, and they felled the wolf with two shots through the head that even Ayden had to admit were impressive from horseback. The Feral buck turned and rushed them with lowered antlers—gods, Ayden hoped it wouldn’t hurt the horses—but the riders re-nocked their bows in time to take it out.

It was over.

Or not: a third creature, so small that Ayden had missed it before, took a flying leap and scurried right up the leg of a rider. It was on his face before the man could reach for his knife, and he fell from his horse, batting wildly at his head. The other soldier dismounted and killed the Feral rodent, but his companion lay unmoving now, either unconscious or dead. Hopefully dead. That made three kills to three for the Ferals—a definite win. After all, wild animals bred much faster than humans.

The excitement died down after that. The one surviving soldier rode back to town, the bells stopped clanging, the humans returned to work, and a group of men built a pyre for the dead. A lone Feral hawk watched them all as carefully as Ayden did, but none of its friends came to join it.

Speaking of friends, Ayden was growing rather impatient with the tarrying of his own. He gathered his strength to form another pair of signal clouds, just in case, then settled in to wait for the next attack.


The scouts arrived about an hour later. Ayden couldn’t see them—they must have been muting their lightsong—but he could hear four of them moving through the forest long before any sound reached his bodily ears. He climbed down to greet them, and found them waiting for him by the time he reached the ground.

Except they were still invisible.

Show-offs.

Ayden looked directly at the space where he knew the one in the lead to be, and a grin crept up his face despite his best attempts at annoyance. “I can hear you, you know.”

The forest before him rippled into the shape of a familiar, smiling elf.

“Afi Kengr,” Ayden said, grasping forearms in greeting. “By the fallen gods, what took you so long? And where are the rest of you? Or does the Council not deign to concern itself any longer with such business?”

Afi smiled back. “Always so impatient, you are.” His three companions, still invisible, spread out to form a perimeter. “Do you know how far we had to travel? And we daren’t ride with the Call so strong—’twould be a shame to have our horses go running right out beneath us past the Crack.”

Ayden conceded the point with a chuckle.

“Anyway, the rest aren’t far behind. But you’re right about the Council, they have grown complacent. I have toenails older than some of the boys and girls they’ve sent this time. But tell me: how far have the Ferals progressed?”

Ayden reported what he’d seen so far, then invited Afi up his tree to take a look. For Afi, of course, the tree bent its first branch. Ayden shot him a dirty look, but stepped up beside him all the same.

“Fret not, my friend,” Afi said, slapping Ayden on the back. “Another few hundred years of practice and they’ll bow for you too, I know it. Shall we race to the top?”

Though Afi didn’t wait for an answer before leaping to the next branch, Ayden grinned and cried, “You’re on, old elf!”

He beat Afi to the top by half a dozen paces.

Once in his hunting blind, they sat back, scanning the landscape and waiting for the rangers to arrive. To the west, a wake of vultures had joined the eagles on the updrafts over the Myrkrs.

“Gods, how can you stand the noise?” Afi asked, pressing his hands to his temples as the Call ratcheted up another notch.

Ayden shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“The view is worth the price, though.”

“Indeed. Will you stay?”

The old scout shook his head. “Command has other plans for me.”

Ayden knew better than to ask what they were. Instead they settled into companionable silence, one eye to the Ferals and the other to the woods behind them.

Their waiting ended half an hour later, when the clutch of junior rangers arrived in a hail of stomping boots and rattling foliage and nervous chatter.

“Ah, younglings.” Afi sounded fond.

Ayden pulled a face. “I was never that green.”

Yet Afi’s clamped, twitching lips told a different story. “Come, greet them,” the old scout said, cutting off Ayden’s indignant response. “’Twould do you good. You’ve been out alone for too long, my friend.”

Ayden snorted. “Climb down a hundred paces for the pleasure of their prattle? I thank you, no.”

Afi shrugged. “As you wish.”

“Signal if you need me,” Ayden called to Afi, who’d started his way to the forest floor. Afi threw a teasing wave, the kind that said he’d have no need of young whelps, and continued on his way down.

The treetop seemed very quiet when he disappeared into the foliage below.


Four days in, and Ayden’s little nest had become quite cozy. Below, the greenwood rangers grew ever more restless, their nerves scraped raw under the constant barrage of the Call. They worked hard to conceal it, Ayden credited them that: they whiled away the waiting with stick fights and patrols, blowpipe competitions for range and accuracy, and anxious bets on when the Surge would finally crest. Ayden sparred with them only once, for after he routed all challengers, none would face him again. Afterward, he ventured down only in short bursts to gather intelligence and food. The invitations to stay aground he ignored. The one trembling, brave request to join him in his blind he glared into a stuttered apology.

He probably enjoyed that more than he should have, but the chatter and bravado of novices a quarter his age frayed his patience more than even the Hunter’s Call could. Ella would have disapproved. Crack it, Ella would have presided over their silly contests and stroked their pride and soothed them with songs at night. He snorted at the idea, but he couldn’t quite erase the smile at the thought of his little sister.

So back into his blind he went, blissfully alone, watching Feral birds arc across the western sky when he detected a hint of deep familiarity above the wrong.

Ella?

Ella! What was she doing here?

In the face of his sudden urgency, the cedar branches bent and shifted beneath him, passing him to the ground in moments. Ella was waiting for him with a soft smile that belied—and nearly disarmed—his concern. Still, he gripped her by the shoulders and asked, “What’s wrong, sister? What brings you here? Is everything all right?”

She plucked his hands from her shoulders and held them in her own, shaking her head indulgently. “Always thinking the worst, Ayden.”

“For good reason,” he said, thinking on that other time she’d come to find him on patrol, nearly three centuries past, with the news of their father—

Ella poked him in the belly, and when he glared at her, she flashed him that cracking cheeky grin and asked, “The new rangers, how do you find them?”

“Young,” Ayden said.

She smiled as if expecting his rancor. “Do be patient with them, brother. No doubt they will learn much from you.”

“Yes,” he drawled, “perhaps in the next hundred years I might succeed in teaching them the value of silence, but I am not hopeful.” And speaking of silence . . . “You never answered my question. What brings you here?”

Ella straightened up. “Why, my love of you, of course.”

“I see. And the real reason?”

“I’m going to see Chaya.”

“What, now?” He gripped her shoulders, scarcely resisting the urge to shake her. “The Ferals are gathering; you’d be a fool to—”

She knocked his hands away. “They never hurt us, you know that.”

“But the humans are on high guard now, and they would hurt you.”

“Not Chaya,” Ella insisted, thrusting forward into his space. He wondered if she realized the challenge she was issuing. Probably not. “She’s my friend and I trust her.”

Ayden covered his eyes with his hands, held them there until she tugged them away.

“I am not blind nor a fool, thank you very much.” Her indignation gave way to sadness as she added, “The human I go to see is dying, not dangerous.”

“That is what mortals do, you kno—” Ella eschewed the usual belly poke for a halfhearted belly punch, cutting him off. He scowled at her. “Your presence won’t change a thing. Go home, Ella.”

He tried to turn her round, but she held her ground. “No.”

“Ella . . .”

“I said no, Ayden. I’ll not let her die alone.”

Ayden let loose an exasperated sigh. Wherever had she learned such stubbornness? He realized that short of binding her, he would not be able to stop her. Though he had to admit, that idea did have its merits . . .

She poked him in the belly again. “Stop that. It’s not for you to command me, brother. I am not one of your rangers, if you’ll recall.”

“Yes, how silly of me to have forgotten.” But in fairness, it seemed he had; she would go with or without his permission, so they might as well part on amicable terms. He offered her a resigned smile.

“I forgive you,” she said, perfectly grave, though a smile was twinkling in her eyes. She stood on her toes to kiss both his temples. Then she was gone, off at a trot toward the human-elven border as if ’twere perfectly harmless: nothing more than some scribbled line on a disused map.

“Come back before the Surge crests!” he called.

“I will,” she called back, not even bothering to turn her head.

“And don’t forget to mute your song!”

Her laughing response was a blast of notes so loud that every ranger in his seeing winced—she’d have blazed like the sun to a human’s eyes—but then she went virtually silent, and he trusted her to stay that way for the duration of her foolish excursion.

He watched her go until he could no longer discern her through the trees. As he turned back to his cedar, he saw where she’d been standing a single small flower, pink-petaled and perfect, reaching toward the sun. Just like Ella, he thought: always grasping for things she could never have.


Back in his perch, Ayden tracked Ella’s progress through the human lands with his farseer. Between the clamor of the Call, the forest song, and Ella’s deliberate muting, he’d expected to lose all sound of her, and was pleasantly surprised to discover himself attuned enough to track her all the way to her human’s house. He kept watching and listening even when she disappeared inside. From time to time she emerged—fetching water from the well or wood for the stove—a bright, distant figure in the powerful lens of his farseer. A farseer that, strictly speaking, should have been trained on the gathering Ferals . . . Ayden resisted the twinge of guilt between his shoulder blades and kept watching the village.

And for that he thanked the fallen gods in a great, panicked rush when he spotted a pack of human soldiers, spread out a league beyond the village and heading straight for it.

Only centuries’ experience with conquering battle rage held him back—and just barely—from hurling himself down the tree and into action. Instead, he readjusted his farseer with shaking fingers. Ten men at least, though from this distance ’twas difficult to discern one from the next. They were slinking through the far field, making faint ripples in the wheat, their steps slow and measured. But that worked to his advantage: he could try to head them off before they reached the village.

Of course, they might not be coming for Ella. The Ferals were on the prowl, after all, and the humans were responding in kind.

But if they were coming for her . . .

He mapped a quick path and memorized the landmarks, then scrambled down from branch to bowing branch. As soon as his feet struck the forest floor, he was racing toward the border and across it for the first time in over two hundred and fifty years.

Ayden ran as he’d never run before, the forest parting a trail before him. He stayed within its safety for as long as he could, but soon the trees thinned and made way for fields of wheat and soy. Before stepping out into the open, he spent precious moments calming his mind and clamping down upon his song until it faded to the softest of whispers; humans could not hear elfsong, but they perceived it as a soft illumination that would betray him. He despised the sensation of binding himself, and the world round him seemed somehow less, but ’twas nothing compared to the thought of a world without Ella.

Even muted, he still possessed the use of all his hearing, and he cast out his senses in search of the soldiers as he sprinted across the fields. He found excitement, eagerness, hatred and anger, confidence and a touch of fear: men on the hunt for a dangerous trophy. Ayden bared his teeth. They had no idea how dangerous their hunt had just become.

He reached the muddy outskirts of the village and slowed to a stop amongst a copse of apple trees near the human’s home. Ella’s song was wrapped round the dying human’s like a swaddling blanket, soothing even to Ayden, though he dared not let it calm him. Instead he cast out his senses once more, his blood rising in his veins as he noted how close the soldiers had come. Too late to head them off, and no time to warn Ella without exposing them both. But surely she’d sensed him by now, and could hear his fear.

Hide, he thought. She might hear it and understand.

Then the time for thoughts was over.

He climbed the tallest tree in the orchard, a measly ten paces to the top, and braced himself to balance without his hands. Through his farseer he spotted the soldiers a hundred paces off, moving quietly down the dirt road. Closer now, he counted nineteen men.

He grabbed a fistful of darts—the lethal ones, not the sleepers—dropped one into his blowpipe, and put it to his lips. Eighty paces. He begged the tree for all he was worth to hide him well, for once the soldiers spotted him, he would lose his main advantage. The leaves and branches rustled softly, closing him in.

Sixty paces.

Fifty.

Ayden blew the first dart, aiming for the rear line in the hope that the soldiers ahead wouldn’t notice. The man slapped a hand to his neck, and Ayden planted darts in two more soldiers before the first one even hit the ground. A fourth soldier folded a second later, but then a cry went up and the whole contingent crouched behind their shields, shouting amongst themselves to find the marksman. Ayden took out two more before a sharp-eyed soldier spotted his perch, and before he could reload again, a hail of crossbow bolts chased him from the tree.

Discovered now, he unleashed his bound song with a satisfied growl and called up a fierce gust of wind, but the bolts were too fast and heavy to be swayed much. One skimmed his left arm as he ducked behind the trunk, ripping a burning furrow into his flesh.

He heard shouts of “Elf!” and “Get him!” and “Watch out, sorcery!” as he dumped his kit and jumped to the ground, wondering how by the fallen gods he would best thirteen men armed with crossbows now that he’d been seen. He sang to the wind for a greater gale and it complied, kicking up pebbles and debris and hurling them in violent spirals.

The soldiers shouted in fear and huddled behind their shields again. But this parlor trick wouldn’t hold them at bay for long; he needed to act quickly before they flanked him.

Storm, he thought. He’d show them a real storm.

As another salvo of bolts thunked against the tree that sheltered him, Ayden sucked in a breath and sought out every sizzling, snapping note in the air around him, in the dirt at his feet and even within his own body. He summoned them together into a tight, sparking ball of sharp notes and frantic tempos and hurled it at the soldiers.

Panicked screams, then shrieks as his ball lightning burst through the front soldier in a crackling fit of fire and smoke, arced off to a second and a third, regrouped and attacked a fourth. Ayden fought for all he was worth to hold it together, but he couldn’t stop it from flowing through the fifth man’s feet and into the dirt.

Six dead from his darts, five from his lightning; that left eight more between Ella and safety. He sang out to summon a second ball, and two soldiers turned tail and fled. But the remaining six found their courage and charged him.

His lightning was building too slowly. Desperate, Ayden pulled his daggers and threw, felling the two men in the lead from ten paces out.

He was running out of weapons. He whipped up the airsong round him into a smoldering crescendo, too hot for the humans to press through. Their fear screeched like untuned strings in the music of the battle as they fell back again. The grass round him caught fire, and he let it burn as he struggled to call together the charged notes once more.

A second ball lightning coalesced in his hands and surged forward with a clap of thunder, stopping the heart of the soldier it hit. Ayden urged it on, but his mind-voice cracked and the lightning went directly to ground.

He had no strength left in him to form a third. His legs buckled beneath him and his vision swam, but even as his knees hit the ground, his hands found a dead branch and snapped it in two—he’d dropped his fighting sticks with his kit, so these would have to do. His left arm throbbed where the bolt had grazed it, and his hand was slick with blood, but he had nearly eight centuries of practice on these vermin and if he could just . . . get . . . up . . . he knew he could take on the three who remained.

He was just getting one foot beneath him when something sharp slammed into his back. It knocked him face down into the dirt, ripped the air from his lungs. His first thought, before the pain hit, was of Ella; he prayed like he’d not prayed in over two hundred years that he’d bought her enough time to reach safety. His last thought, before the world went black, was that he’d miscalculated: there had been twenty men, not nineteen, and he’d overlooked the one who had scouted ahead.