If you missed Monday's big FREE event--or even if you didn't--there's still time to save on next year's reading. The Stocking Your E-Reader sale runs from now until the 30th with dozens of free or nearly free (.99 cents) books.
Check it out and enjoy! https://bit.ly/2022StockingEvent
Do you like free books? Of course you do! And several times a year your favorite (and soon-to-be favorite) authors get together to put on a free-book-palooza. This time around we have more than EIGHT HUNDRED free romance books--all the genres, none of the strings.
That's right, you don't have to sign up for even a single newsletter, just click on the link and download to your heart's content.
Is there a catch? Well, a little one, I suppose: it's one day only! So what are you waiting for?
So you may have noticed that my blog has a new header. That's because I suffer from Shiny New Thing (SNT) Syndrome and always need to change things up. I'm probably going to leave my website alone, for now. And I'm happy with the look of things here, but my newsletter...well, that's getting an overhaul, for sure.
BUT...what kind of overhaul? And how much will I be changing? Those are the questions!
I currently have three looks--and three different names--in mind.
Choice #1 is to leave the name as is--the Oberon inspired, Notes from The Crone's Nest. The type and color palette will stay pretty similar (and a lot like my Oberon blog).
Download it for free—only during the holiday season!
https://dl.bookfunnel.com/1flcr1puar
And if you haven't read This Winter Heart yet, what are you waiting for?
https://books2read.com/u/bPgOD7
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4jPTEQcgiBOvz5Y7KHLH2q?si=2e91a5a9ff044d1e
I don't always listen to music when I write, but when I do I end up creating a really eclectic playlist. This one has several versions of The Christmas Waltz for reasons that I won't divulge here. Have a listen. I'd love to know what you think!
“Race you to the lamppost,” Seven-year-old Tim said, challenging us to a race.
Surprised, I glanced at the kid, and then at Tony who rolled his eyes at his younger brother and sighed, “Tim. Get real. You know you can’t beat us, right?”
I mean, that was obvious. Tony and I were both nineteen and on the university’s track team. But the crestfallen look on Timo’s face made my chest tighten up. “Oh, I dunno,” I said, giving Tony’s shoulder a shove. “He looks pretty fast to me. And weren’t you just complaining about shin splints the other day?”
“Wasn’t I what?” Tony frowned at me. “Shin splints? No.”
“Yeah, you were. And I just pulled my hamstring this morning, so…”
“Oh, you did, did you?”
“I'm tellin' ya. I think he’s got a shot at this.”
“Yes!” Tim pumped his fist in the air then shouted, “Onetwothree go!” And we were off. At least, one of us was. Tim took an early lead—in part because I’d grabbed a fistful of his brother’s jacket to slow him down.
“Would you stop?” Tony demanded. But he was laughing as he batted my hands away. We lurched along like that for several more feet, with both of us grabbing and shoving at each other, before I gave up subtlety and tackled him landing us both in a snow drift. “Omigod, you’re ridiculous,” he groaned as he lay pinned beneath me.
We were so close I could feel the soft puff of his breath on my skin. The urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming then. Given the way his eyes had darkened, I think he felt the same.
Our gazes caught and for a long, breathless moment we stared at each other. Neither of us spoke. There was no need for words.
Then an instant later, he’d given me a shove that rolled me off him. "Ouch!" I groaned, having landed on a rock. But he was already up and sprinting down the road after his brother by then, with me limping behind--because now I really had pulled a hamstring.
By the time I made it to the lamppost Tim was bouncing around doing a victory dance. And Tony was staring at me like he’d never seen me before. Not in a bad way, you understand. In fact, the look in his eyes had visions dancing in my head. Not of sugar plums, no. More like packages of candy-striped condoms and gingerbread-flavored lube.
What can I say? It was Christmas, after all.
We started back toward the house with Tim walking between us, babbling happily about what presents he was hoping to get and what treats he most liked to find in his stocking.
“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas?” he asked me.
“Candy canes,” I replied, as I smiled at Tony over his brother’s head. “There’s just something about having one of those big sticks in my mouth. Mmm. My mouth’s watering right now, just thinking about it.”
“I’ve always been a fan of ginger men, myself,” Tony said, directing a pointed look my head.
“You mean, gingerbread men,” his brother corrected.
Tony smiled serenely. “S’what I said, isn’t it?”
“No. You said—”
“I like to start at their feet. Nibble their toes, then move up and nibble along the edges of their ears.”
I swallowed hard. I was thankful I was wearing a beanie, just then, because I could feel my ears heating up and turning red just from his words.
Timmy shook his head. “What are you talking about? Gingerbread men don’t have ears. Or toes.”
“Are you sure?” Tony chuckled in response. “Maybe I’ve just always gotten to them before you.”
“Ewww. I don’t want your mouth on my cookies!” he said, then glared at us in disgust when we started to laugh. But then his eyes narrowed and, “Race you back,” he said, already running.
I grabbed Tony’s arm. He looked at me in surprise. “We’re not…?”
“No,” I said, eyes firmly focused on the road where Tim was just about to disappear around the bend. As soon as he was gone from sight, I pushed Tony off the track and into the trees.
Then my mouth was on his and his hands were fisted in my hair and the scent of pine was sharp all around us from the branches we’d snapped on our way. The only sounds were the rasp of our breaths and the shuffling of our feet as we fought the urge to climb each other like trees.
“I’m really glad you talked me into coming home with you for Christmas,” I told him when we’d finally broke away from each other. “But right now…I wish to God we were spending the weekend anywhere other than in your parents’ house.”
“Same,” Tony agreed, as he gulped for air, and his eyes gleamed with heat, and his lips twisted into a wry smile. “Same.”
Light Up the Night releases tomorrow! Here's a final excerpt to tempt you...
The following evening, found Heather in Akeldama, once again, staring at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and wishing that the old myth about vampires and mirrors could have been true. That way, she wouldn’t have to see how plain, and young, and ordinary she looked. Especially when she compared herself to Liz and Brook, who were gorgeous and glamorous. And unmistakably all grown up.
She’d really tried tonight, too; for all the good that had done. She’d taken pains with her appearance when she was getting ready earlier in the evening. She’d spent hours putting on makeup and experimenting with hairstyles, hoping she could hit on a combination that would make her look older. She’d wanted to look nice for Drew, even though he’d ghosted on her the night before.
No—that was not true. She wasn’t doing it in spite of the fact he’d left without saying good-bye. She was doing it because of that. She’d wanted to make him sorry for what he’d done. She wanted him to see what he was missing. Although it appeared he was happy to go right on missing it because he’d barely said two words to her all night! He was spending all his time at the other end of the bar—about as far away from her as he could get.
To be fair, Jason and Aiken had also gravitated in that direction, so maybe it was a guy thing? But even though she’d caught Drew watching her a couple of times, out of the side of his eye, he made no effort to move closer. And that just hurt.
What had she done wrong? They’d had a nice time last night, hadn’t they? Why was he suddenly avoiding her?
She wasn’t just imagining it, either. She knew this to be true because Drew’s defection had left Danny, one of the few humans who worked for him, to cover this side of the room all by himself. And that was something Drew had always made a particular point of not doing.
The very first time she’d come in here, back in her wilder days, she’d scared the piss out of Danny. He’d never really recovered. He still was palpably nervous whenever she was around. And Drew knew that! So what the fuck?
She blew out a frustrated sigh. She was hungry and annoyed and should probably go check out the dance floor and find someone to eat—just to take the edge off. Except that Liz had just excused herself to do the same, and it didn’t seem polite to leave Brook here all alone.
At least shopping had been fun. It turned out that Brook was only a little older than she was. And Liz, who’d apparently spent most of her life locked up like Rapunzel, lacked that been-there-done-that, jaded attitude that made most vampires so annoying to hang out with. Heather had enjoyed spending time with the two of them—even if they did talk way too much about their boyfriends. And even though they’d teased her about Marc, which was simply irritating.
They acted like she must be hung up on him, just because she was buying him a present. Didn’t either of them buy presents for their sires? Well, Brook wouldn’t, of course. Being “something else” probably meant she didn’t have one. And Liz’s sire was Marc now. So, obviously, no, they didn’t.
Not that Heather really cared. Giving gifts to the people you were close to was as good a way to show them how you felt as any other. And she and Marc were close—in fact, she loved him a lot—just not in the way they thought.
The two of them were family. Marc was the closest thing Heather had to a father now. So, no—eww—she did not view him as boyfriend material! Not to mention that he already had a sort-of girlfriend.
To be honest, Heather wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Elise yet, but she liked her well enough that she wouldn’t have felt right about creeping on her boyfriend behind her back, even if he hadn’t been Marc.
Besides, how pathetic would that be—falling for someone who was already taken? Although, it was probably less pathetic than falling for someone who didn’t even care enough about you to come over and ask if you were enjoying your drink—looking at you, Drew! Which, for the record, she was not.
She took another sip, just to check. But, nope, she still didn’t like…whatever this was. What it was not was the egg cream she’d ordered, that was for damn sure. And she was stuck with it, too, since she couldn’t ask cry-baby Danny to re-make it. She was feeling too snarly; and he’d likely pass out on the floor if she so much as scowled in his direction.
Beside her, Brook’s phone rang—for the eleventy-thousandth time. Heather watched as her friend snatched it up and put it to her ear. “Hello? Hello? Who is this? What? Speak up; I can’t hear you.”
“That thing still giving you trouble?” Heather asked sympathetically as a frustrated Brook slammed the gadget down on the bar and growled at it.
Brook’s phone had been acting up all night. It would ring, but then immediately disconnect as soon as she tried to answer. She couldn’t call back, to see who it was, because the number was listed as private. And she didn’t want to block it, because she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t someone from home trying to reach her.
She and Liz had even joked that Aiken must have put a spell on it to keep Brook’s family from finding her. Or, at least, Heather thought they were joking. But then Brook borrowed Liz’s phone so she could call Aiken to ask if he knew anything about what was going on. So, maybe they’d meant it after all?
As far as Heather could tell, Brook’s parents had been a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, complete with feuding families, and untimely deaths. Although at least they’d lived long enough to raise Brook to adulthood. And, to hear her tell it, her childhood, which she’d spent in a tiny little town in Nebraska, had been idyllic.
So, while it was a much better story than the original version, it still meant that Brook had never had any sort of contact with her relatives on either side. So Heather wasn’t quite sure why she thought they’d suddenly be looking for her now.
“It’s too noisy in here,” Brook said, still scowling at her phone. “That’s one of the problems. This time there was actually someone there, you know? I could hear them talking, but I couldn’t understand a word they were saying because of this weird-ass music.”
Heather nodded understandingly. “It can be distracting.” Truthfully, the music here was one of her favorite things about the bar, although that hadn’t always been the case. It was layered with the sound of human heartbeats, with the rush of blood through veins. When she’d been starving it had driven her nearly mad with hunger; now it just sounded delicious.
But it was supposedly pitched in a way that meant humans couldn’t hear it; so as not to spook them. And that was more proof, as if she’d needed it, that whatever Brook was, she only looked human.
Heather thought for a moment then asked, “Do you want to go outside? It’s usually pretty chill in the back alley. We could hang out there for a bit and see if they call back?”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Brook asked. “It might be a while.”
“That’s okay,” Heather said, as she hopped off her stool. “I got nothing better to do.” Maybe, if they were gone long enough, Drew might actually notice, or even start to miss her. “I figure, if we can finally solve the mystery of who’s been calling you, it will be worth it.”
Half an hour later, Heather stared at Drew in amazement. “What do you mean it’s your first time decorating a Christmas tree? You don’t mean, like, ever do you?”
Drew’s lips curved into the teasing grin he seemed to reserve just for her—the one she was quickly becoming addicted to. “I believe that is generally what the term ‘first time’ indicates.”
She passed him another ornament—a shimmery Mercury Glass ball—still shaking her head in disbelief. “How is that possible?”
Drew shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” he replied, peering at the fragile sphere as though the answers could be found within its shiny, gold-and-silver-flecked depths. “The opportunity simply never arose.”
“Not even when you were human?”
“Nooo. Especially not then.”
Heather’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected hint of bitterness in Drew’s voice. She was about to inquire further, when Marc appeared, accompanied by one of the mystery guests she’d noticed earlier, and clasped a hand on Drew’s shoulder.
“Hey, man, good to see you. What’s up? I wasn’t expecting you tonight, was I?”
“Uh, no,” Drew answered. “I was just, um…”
“I invited him,” Heather said, bristling at what appeared to be a suspicious glint in Marc’s one good eye. His tone was off as well, making him sound ever so slightly possessive. What the hell, Marc? “And, speaking of things that no one expected, I wasn’t expecting there to be a Christmas party here tonight either.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Marc glanced around, seemingly bemused. “I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart. I think it was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”
“Well, we need to have another one—on Christmas Eve. Like the one we had last year, remember? Family only.”
“Marc nodded “All right. That sounds nice. Let’s do that.” Then he turned back to Drew. “So, did you need me for something, or…?”
“Yes,” Drew replied, visibly squaring his shoulders, as though he were expecting a fight. “If you’re not too busy, I’d like to have a word with you.”
“Sure thing.” Marc nodded toward the man beside him and added, “Aiken and I were just going upstairs to have a drink in my office. Why don’t you come with?”
“Now?” Heather blurted in dismay. “But we’re not finished!”
Her disappointment was only partially mollified when Drew flashed that smile at her again. “Thank you so much for sharing your tree with me. It’s not often I receive the gift of a new experience. I’ll treasure it.”
“You’re welcome,” Heather said with a sigh. “Come back when you’re done, if you want. I’ll save you an ornament.”
“We’ll see,” he answered, which she figured was code for not a fucking chance; especially given the look in his eyes—like he was saying goodbye.
An instant later, the ornament she’d been holding was plucked from her hands. “Hey!” She turned to scowl at Nighthawk as he attached it to a branch far above her head. “I was saving that for later!”
“You don’t save ornaments,” Nighthawk scoffed. “That’d be silly. Anyway, where you been all night? I coulda used your help earlier when we were setting things up. And what’re you doing coming here with that housie?” Which was laughable—as if they both didn’t belong to a House now, too. But it was hardly the first stupid thing Hawk had said tonight.
“That’s none of your business,” she replied. “Oh, and, by the way, this is not a submarine.”
Hawk looked confused. “What?”
“You know—that thing you said earlier about the door being open? This isn’t a submarine.”
“I know. Isn’t that what I said? The door was open and obviously you can’t do that on a submarine.”
“Right. Which is why that makes no sense. What you meant to say is that this isn’t a barn.”
Hawk shrugged dismissively. “Okay, sure. Whatever. Have it your way. It might as well be though.”
“Might as well be…what? A barn?”
“Yeah. I mean, granted it’s missing hay, and pitchforks, livestock, all that country shit. But it’s as big as a barn, right? So…”
“I don’t know why I even try,” she muttered, just as Jason, another of the vampires who’d been hanging around the warehouse lately—not one of theirs, but less annoying than most—gave a smothered laugh.
Hawk rounded on him. “What are you laughing about? I bet you’ve never even seen a barn.”
Jason’s eyebrows rose. “Farm boy, remember? I’m country born and raised, son. So, yeah, I have. I even helped raise a few, back in the day. And she’s right—or closer to it. Because what you really wanted to say was, ‘were you born in a barn?’”
“Why would I wanna say that?” Hawk demanded. “It wasn’t a Christmas reference. And, anyway, that would be born in a stable, right?”
“What? No. That’s not— I didn’t— It wasn’t…” Jason stammered to a halt, clearly confused by the turn the conversation had taken. “Are you serious? Or are you putting me on?”
Just then, a commotion broke out at the other end of the warehouse and claimed Hawk’s attention. “No, no, NO!” he shouted as he stormed off into the fray. “Not like that. What the hell are you doing?”
Jason watched him go with a bemused expression, then asked, “Is he always like this?”
“Pretty much,” Heather replied. Then, feeling as though she was being disloyal—because, for all his faults, Hawk was family—she added. “He means well.”
“Uh-huh. Which is just about the worst thing you can say about anyone.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Jason held out an ornament—a frosted globe with a lacy design etched into its surface. “Here, did you want this for when Drew comes back?”
“Thanks,” Heather said, taking the ball with a small sigh. “But I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“No? Well, you might be right. But he looked like he was enjoying himself, so if he doesn’t come back, you can count on there being a good reason for it. Because I’ve known Drew for a good while now, and one thing he’s never struck me as being is foolish.”
What is the one dish or treat you can't do without during the holiday season? If you make it yourself, share the recipe.
And Remember, There's
ONLY ONE WEEK TO GO:
Heather is having the worst Christmas ever! Or, at least, the worst Christmas since she was forced to become a vampire. Her sire's distracted, her nestmates have forgotten her, weirdos have taken over the lair. The only bright spot in her life right now is Drew--who didn't even used to like her! She knows he's fond of her now, but that's not good enough. She wants more. She wants everything. She wants him. And she's not giving up.
Drew Geiger gave up on love a long time ago. Such tender emotions have no place in a vampire's heart. But, somehow, the girl he once described as a "feral kitten" has got her claws in him, and she's not letting go. That would be fine, if only someone didn't want her dead--and if her sire didn't recall that it was Drew who once suggested that maybe she'd be better off that way.
Available for pre-order now: https://books2read.com/u/m0En1l
And read an excerpt here: http://rhymeswithforeplay.blogspot.com/2022/11/shall-we-dance.html
