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I missed my calling

Sometimes I think I should have gone into photography.  :)

See this?  The next time you see it, it will be magically morphed into a cover for the Kit Colbana books.

urban fantasy book covers

Who is that gorgeous young lady, you ask?

Why…that’s Diva.  My oldest.  Yes, it’s kinda small and you can’t enlarge, but I don’t want anybody grabbing it.  I’m taking a whole bunch of pictures of her and my cover lady is going to make her into Kit.  Blonde hair, bad-ass backgrounds…

Cute young lady with kicking sword = awesome urban fantasy book covers.

I’m planning to repackage the whole series.  I love the model I’ve used for the Kit books, but she’s popping up on a lot of books now.  Once I’m done repackaging these, nobody will have these covers.  And I gotta say… my daughter makes one hell of a Kit. At least when it comes to cockiness. 😉

 

Meet Neve & Ian…Headed for Trouble

For those who like my small town romances…

SHE’S A SMALL-TOWN GIRL WITH BIG DREAMS.
Nine years ago, Neve McKay fled her small Southern town and disapproving family to seek a career in the big city. Now she’s finally coming home-and hoping for a fresh start. But the relationship that shattered her world still haunts her. And even among her nearest and dearest, she doesn’t feel safe. . .

CAN THIS BAD BOY BE THE ANSWER TO HER PRAYERS?
Ian Campbell is a pure Scottish muscle-as hard and handsome as they come. But when Neve walks into his bar, his heart melts. . .and he vows to have this gorgeous and somewhat vulnerable woman in his life-for better or for worse. What is Neve’s tragic secret? And how can Neve expect Ian to protect her, when doing so could put his own life at risk? The only thing Ian knows for sure is that he will do whatever it takes to keep her out of harm’s way-and in his loving arms. . .

 

* * * * *

I’ve seen the cover and it’s oh so awesome.

Also, no.  This isn’t the surprise.  This is the first in my next trilogy with St. Martins, centered around the McKay family, Neve, Moira and Brannon, patriarchs of the town McKay’s Treasure, a small Mississippi town.

I had mad fun with these two.

Here ya go…

Excerpt

She stood in the doorway, oddly apart from everybody else even as she studied them, eyes moving to linger on a group here, then there.  After a couple of moments, she moved away and he found himself tracking her progress.

Don’t be here to meet somebody, he thought and immediately, he wanted to kick himself.  What did it matter if she was?

He told himself it didn’t and glanced up at Gary Harnett settled down and ordered his usual.  Ian started to build the Guinness as they chatted, but the entire time, he watched her from the corner of his eye.

She moved like a dancer, effortless grace and easy elegance.  He could imagine those legs, long and slim, wrapped around his waist, could picture that torso—just as long and slim—bent back as he leaned over to press his mouth to pale, soft skin.

Gary said, “They say it’s going to break a hundred again tomorrow.”

“Imagine it will,” Ian murmured, the easy chatter second nature and in his mind, he continued to mentally undress the redhead.

She slid onto a vacant stool tucked up against the wall just as he finished Gary’s Guinness and Ian was took a moment to appreciate the fact that he had a heavy, solid bar between the two of them, because thanks to his wandering mind, his bloody cock was hard as iron and pulsing.

She looked at him then, her mouth unsmiling, but wide and soft and lush.

Fuck me.

He rested his hands on the bar and smiled.  You’ve a job to do, so do it.

He opened his mouth.

You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve seen in ages—maybe forever.  He could feel those words hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Biting them back, he fell back on the job he’d been doing for ages.

“Well.  ‘Allo.  What can I get you?”

A faint smile flirted around her lips and a hot ball of lust twisted inside, settling down low in his balls.  Mad.  He’d gone mad—that’s all there was to it.

She nodded toward the Guinness he’d just finished and said, “I’ll have one of those.”

He nodded. Self-preservation told him to move his arse and get to work.

He told self-preservation to get fucked as he got to work on her Guinness.  As he did, four more orders came in and he filled three of them before her Guinness was ready.  By the time he had another minute to breathe, she had folded her hands around her glass and was studying everything around her, almost mesmerized.

“Visiting?”

She blinked, a startled look in her eyes.  Her gaze slid away.  “Depends on your point of view.”  Then she flashed him a wide smile.

It was disarming, that smile, bright and wicked, the kind of smile a temptress would give a saint to lure him into all manners of sin.

Ian was many things—a saint had never been one of them.  As she propped her elbows on the bar, he found himself easing closer. “I’m here for…personal things, but that’s for later,” she said, lifting her shoulder in a shrug.  “Tonight…?  Tonight I’m just trying to not think.”

I can help you with that.

The words popped into his brain and they almost escaped his lips.

He managed to keep them trapped inside, but one thing he couldn’t do was keep his eyes off that mouth.

She noticed, too.  He could tell by the hitch in her breathing, the way her pulse slammed against the fragile wall of her throat.  Curious, he reached out and pressed a finger against it.

He could very well be doing the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

Her lids drooped and her head slumped, angling slightly to the side.  He skimmed his finger down lower, tracing the elegant line of her collarbone.  “I’ve had days like that,” he said softly.  “Days where the last place I want to be is inside my own head.”

He lowered his hand.

She lifted her head and met his gaze dead-on.

He started to turn away.

“How late do you work?”

Coming in December

Amazon | BN | Book Depository | IndieBound | iBooks

Busted… Four days away

Pretty please, if you enjoy the excerpt, it would be awesome if you check out the book.  If you like it, reviews are appreciated.  They help. :)

Busted

The only voice she’d heard had been an internal one that whispered, I need to touch him. So bad. I need . . .

No, as she swiped her key through the card reader, her hands were sweating, almost shaking.

And the damn key card wouldn’t work.

“Figures,” she whispered, her voice hitching.

A warm hand came around, took the key. “Let me see,” he murmured, his voice way too close to her ear.

Eyes closed, she stood there, struck dumb from the want ravaging inside her. The door clicked and she opened her eyes as he came around her to turn the handle, push it open. Then he turned his head, stared at her.

Waiting. On her, she knew.

Do or die, she thought, a little desperately.

Kind of extreme, maybe. But it felt apt. Because in that moment, she knew if she didn’t take him inside . . . and then just take him—let them take each other—some little piece inside of her would feel like it had died.

She slid past him, brushing up against his body as she did so. She felt his ragged intake of air and that hot, hungry need inside trembled, swelled.

She didn’t turn on the light.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she kicked off the spike heels and then turned to look at him.

Abruptly, a line from the book Lynnette had been reading danced through her mind.

With need and want a vicious tangle . . .

Yes, this was a tangle, one that was entirely too twisted, considering how short a time she’d known him. Hours, really. Just a handful of hours when you added it all up.

None of that mattered.

She moved toward him.

He met her halfway and as his arms came around her, everything inside her breathed out a sigh of delight . . . even as the need inside her demanded for more.

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Hunters: Rafe and Sheila

Some of my EC books have reverted back to me, including Rafe and Sheila.  I’m trying to get these back available as time allows, and time has allowed for Rafe and Sheila.

You can read it again if you haven’t had the chance.  :)

Rafe&Sheilasmall

Revised and Reissued! March 2015

Rafe&SheilasmallBook 6

Sheila is done.

After months of loving the brooding, sexy Hunter, she realizes that all Rafe will ever give her is sex. Leaving him will hurt, but staying will hurt even more. It’s like ripping out her undead heart, but in the end, she knows that her only choice is to do just that…leave.

Rafe is furious.

After all they had together, the sexy belle just up and leaves him? No. It doesn’t work that way. He sets off to find her and when he does, he realizes that things are worse than he realizes. She’s already found herself another lover.

A human lover.

When that human goes missing, Sheila is convinced that Rafe had something to do with it, although he didn’t. And something else is going on…something dark…something evil. Something that could very well cost Rafe the woman he only now discovers he loves…

Includes a bonus story!

Rafe scowled as Sheila left the house, head low, her steps slow. She had donned the dark, close fitting clothes she wore when she Hunted and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the way the black fatigues stretched across that delightfully round ass.

 

He had missed her.

 

Gone three weeks to Excelsior, and all he could think about was her.

 

He had sensed her the moment he stepped back on Eli’s lands and his blood seemed to burn inside his veins, hunger throbbing in his cock, in his head, tightening his muscles. Seeing her, he had wanted nothing more than to sink to his knees in front of her and wrap his arms around her,  burying his face between her full, rounded breasts.

She made him weak.

And he hated it.

So he had ignored what he wanted, ignored the hesitant smile in her eyes, keeping his attention focused on Erika, ignoring the pain he felt coming from her.

She knew the score, damn it. After giving Erika a slight smile, he had left the kitchen, the scowl deepening on his face once he was out of their sight.

Now, a day later, he couldn’t stop craving a taste of her. Sheila hadn’t been in her rooms today—he had no idea where she had slept. And he refused to go looking for her.
Just after sunset, she had returned, her eyes hooded, the long sweep her rose colored skirt flowing down the length of her thighs, a pretty sweater, shades darker than the skirt, giving color to her creamy complexion. Rafe had watched her from the greatroom where the Hunters of Eli’s enclave had gathered for the night, watched as she sauntered in and dropped onto a couch between Mike and Jonathan. Lori was sitting in Jonathan’s lap, so the two of them took up a little more room, meaning Sheila had to sit closer to Mike than Rafe could stand. Studiously, she ignored the looks he had slid her, staring at Eli with intent focused eyes.

That had sliced. Deep.

Mike’s dark gray eyes had slid to Rafe as Sheila sat there, and Rafe had scowled, jerking his gaze away from the Inherent, knowing his anger was naked for all to see.

Now, hours after the meeting had ended, she was leaving for her night of patrol with her shoulders slumped and her eyes on the ground. Damn it. The southern belle looked about as happy as he felt.

In his hands, he held a short sword, polishing the surface that really didn’t need it. The blade all but glowed in the dim light, reflecting his face back at him as he tore his eyes from Sheila’s form, forcing himself to look at the sword as he ran the cloth up and down.

But barely a moment passed before he lifted his gaze, searching for Sheila once more. She was gone from sight.

Out Hunting.

Walking away from him…

Hunger, pain, guilt, need, they all ran together and wrapped a tight fist around his heart. Laying the sword aside, he spun away from the window to pace the floor.

She knew. He’d warned her from the beginning he wasn’t the man for a relationship. Not that she ever asked for anything. But he saw the disappointment in her eyes every time he pulled back. Sheila wanted more. Hell, that was what she was made for. And he couldn’t give it to her.

But he’d be damned if he let her walk away.

 

B & N Smashwords | iBooks | Amazon | ARe

Claws

Just a couple more days, guys!

chang

“Hello, Kit.”

“Chang.” I cocked my head. “Sorry to crash in like this…sounded like serious stuff. Am I interrupting?”

Chang had an innate courtesy. He’d brush it off. Of course not. How are you, would you like some tea

To my surprise, the only response he made initially was to sigh.

It was a soft, heavy sigh, one that carried a world of weariness. “I had to call a family up north with grim news. An awful sort of call to make.”

“I…” I stopped for a moment. “I’m sorry. Are there…problems?”

An odd question to ask, maybe, but the look on Chang’s face wasn’t one that spoke of somebody who’d lived to see a ripe old age and then died peacefully in his sleep.

From the corner of his eye, he watched me. There was a strange expression to his features, as though he wanted to say something, but then he sighed and said, “No. Sit. I’ll fix tea. You’ll tell me why you’re here.”

There was no point in arguing.

Chang had fallen back on his role of courtesy.

There was no getting out of it now—and no chance of tugging out any details about that phone call, either.

I waited until I had my tea in hand—tea was a personal addiction of mine, almost as bad as the soaps and lotions and other girly things I bought obsessively. Breathing in the sweet and spicy scent, I sighed. I doctored it with sugar and cream. I liked my tea, with just a little more sugar than most people. Or a lot more sugar.

“How you can drink it that way confounds me,” Chang said. “I keep trying to break you of that habit, but it doesn’t work.”

“To each their own.” I shrugged and took my first sip. Perfect.

Chang had a look of amusement and revulsion on his face.

“When you spend a good ten years of your life scrapping just to get enough water and food to fill the hole in your belly, you develop odd cravings.” I shrugged it off.

Chang’s eyes fell away.

I scowled inwardly, wished I hadn’t said anything. I’d dealt with more abuse in my life than most people had ever heard of—I’d come to grips with what my family had done and generally dealt with it, in my own unique sort of way.

Sometimes, I was even able to not be ashamed of it. But it made other people uncomfortable. Honestly, that’s just plain stupid to me—it happened to me—if I can deal with it, then why can’t they?

But then I had to deal with people looking away, or lapsing into silence…or just…fading away.

“Sorry,” I said, my voice tense.

“Why?” Chang said quietly.

I stared at him, opened my mouth—then snapped it shut. “Fuck it. Never mind.”

But he was too insightful, by far. Unlike many shifters I knew, he didn’t just go by what his senses told him. He looked at people. Saw beneath the surface. Sometimes, he saw so deep, it pissed me off.

“I’m not aggravated with you for speaking of your childhood,” he said softly. “In a way, it…humbles me. I know you don’t always speak freely of your past, Kit.”

He rose.

The languid way he moved couldn’t be called pacing, not by any means.

But Chang rarely made wasted moves and the way he moved from the window at the back of his office to his wall of weapons then to his desk to straighten the non-existent clutter there before repeating the circuit was nothing but wasted movement. And it was done with all the elegance, grace and speed he did everything else with. “At the same time, the thought that any soul could treat a child as I know you were treated makes me…”

He looked up.

For the first time in all the time I’d known him, I saw a faint glow roll across his eyes.

The flash was gone so fast, I couldn’t even place it—just a glow of color too light to belong in that dark gaze, and then it was gone. “It angers me. Children should be treasured.”

“That’s how the world works sometimes.”

His eyes held mine. “And sometimes, the world sucks.”

“I’ve found myself thinking that a lot lately.”

“Yet another reason I like you, Kit. You are a wise woman.”

At that, I snorted. “I’m a lot of things—wise isn’t one of them.”

He chuckled and the tension in the air passed. He returned to his seat and faced me. “Let’s discuss why you’re here. Not that I’m not delighted to see you, of course.”

He’d never say it, but I suspected he had things to do, secrets to pass on and people who needed to kill or be killed.

That was his job, after all.

Since I respected that, I didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m tracking down—or trying to track down—some information. I could use your help.”

He arched a brow as he lifted his tea cup to his lips.

He’d help if he could. I knew that. Just like I knew he’d stonewall me if he couldn’t.

“NHs are disappearing. I need to know about any shifters who have gone missing…specifically some in Georgia. I need information and if anybody has it, it’s you.”

The cup froze at his mouth.

Without taking a sip, he lowered it. Then he put it down and moved behind his desk to stare out the window. “Who have you been talking to, Kit?”

I started to move my knee back and forth. “Am I going to sound terribly childish if I say I asked you first?”

“Sound as childish as you want. But you’re more likely to get answers from me if you cooperate.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Then a faint smile appeared on his face. “You can always ask Damon. However, if you wanted to do that, you would have. You often end up in messes that worry him, a fact I’m sure you’re aware of. This is likely why you came to me instead.”

“You’re telling me this because…” I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair as I stared at him.

“Only two people possess the information you’re looking for—or possess an in-depth knowledge of it. That I know of. Damon hasn’t spoken to you—he wouldn’t, not about this. If somebody has spoken to you…” He let the words trail off.

“If you’re worried my source might be behind these disappearances, you can draw your claws back in, Chang.”

“My claws aren’t out.” A brow lifted. “Yet.”

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Ups and Downs of Being a Writer

There are times when being a writer feels like the best damn job in the world.  Seriously. I mean, you’re hardly ever bored.  You can look at a corkscrew and get an idea.  You can ride the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World and have an idea for a book (or two).  You can go to Disney World and write the whole damn trip off because you had an idea (or two) for a book–then sold it!

But then there are times when you’re up until 3am-because the voices in your head just won’t shut up.  Yes, voices, because that’s how my stories come to me.  People talk to me.  These are my characters.  I’ve mentioned before that I feel more like a narrator than anything else, because I’m just taking down the notes for the people who are living out the stories that happen in my head.  So imagine these people…living in your head…and they never shut up.

That’s been my head for the past month.  Several shiny, dazzling new ideas and I’m letting them all out to play before I knuckle down and get to work on RS project #2.

Which I have to start on this week.

The problem with letting them all out to play is that they don’t want to stop playing.

They don’t want to shut up.

They don’t want to let me sleep.  They don’t want to let me think or read or do anything but write their story.  They’d take me over and turn me into a…a STEPFORD writer or something if I let them.

O.O

Maybe this shouldn’t be a down side to be a writer, but it’s exhausting.  Too many noises inside the noggin.

So this weekend, I shut down.

I barely read email, I didn’t open my laptop.  I took a bubblebath or two.  I watched tv.  I read books.  I went to church. I went to the mall.

On Sunday, I did glance at my email….

And I saw one I’d been hoping to see.

From editor M. with St. Martins.

About RS book 1.

I’m loving this…

Hot damn, yes.  This is the upside to be a writer.  When somebody loves a book.

Now maybe I can shut up those many voices and focus on the one voice I need to focus on.

Here… snippet.  This is from book #1.  Right now, I’m calling it Nothing but Trouble, but that title might change.  No release date, etc available right now.

But let me introduce Neve McKay.

~*~

 

Home.

Her throat clogged from the memories and she blew out a breath.  She’d let herself get all sentimental and stupid later.  For now, though, she was going to have herself that damn beer and figure out her next step—and decide if she was going to call her brother sister right away, or wait until tomorrow.

Some frisson of nerves twisted inside her at the thought of trying to deal with the rift she’d caused in her family, but she’d deal with that when the time came.  All of that was for later.

Tonight?

“Just a drink,” she told herself.

And with that in mind, she started toward the door.

She had to take a minute to acclimate herself once she ducked inside.

The few glimpses she’d had inside the dive that had been Treasure Island didn’t match up with what was before her now.   The servers wore kilts—shorter lengths for the girls, although nothing that would make their mothers hide their eyes if they bent over—while the guys had a similar style that hit the knee.

She smirked, amused.  So they were going for a Scottish theme?  And still using the name Treasure IslandOooookkayyy.

To each their own, she mused as she wound her way through the crowd, ducking her head when somebody looked at her too long, averting her face when somebody looked familiar.

She had to avert her face a lot.

Treasure wasn’t a big town—population at the last census was just under nine thousand.  Her graduating class hadn’t even topped two hundred.  Just in the short walk from the door to the bar, she’d heard several familiar names and seen people she hadn’t seen in eight years.

But she hadn’t seen the people who counted the most, and that was all that mattered.

As long as she could brace herself before she had to see them, then everything would be just fine and dandy.

Spying an empty seat, she slid onto and looked up at the bar.  She hooked her backpack on the little hook in front of her and shifted to keep it between her legs.  She’d had people try to relieve her of her belongings more than once.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, she let herself relax.  Now…for that drink—

“Well.  ‘Allo.  What can I get you?”

At the sound of that voice, a shiver raced down her spine and a punch of heat—something she hadn’t felt in far too long spread through her, warming her from head to toe.

 

Upcoming

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August

The FBI Psychics

The Forsaken new releases

(contains The Unwanted & The Innocent)

January 2016

southern romance

Serial Romance

Coming late 2015

30 Nights Serial Romance Novels

July 2015

May 2015

Busted

 

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