6792/6000
I had my word count lowered since it was obvious that I couldn't do it. This might as well be scrambled by how much different bits of writing is in it. :D
by one of your minions. Now, tell me, Tara, what was the point of that?“Honey, of course I don't want you to hate me. I just want you to realize who you are working with.” Tara sighed like a mother explaining to a child why they were being punished. “Your mother was a horrible excuse for a parent. You should be happy that I finally got her out of your life so you could move on. You don't have to wonder anymore about if she will ever stop being so selfish. She's gone and you are free from her influence.” It was for your own good.” while The sun at set awhile ago so the streets were empty on this Tuesday night because even in the Frieda district people still needed to get up for work in the morning.in Vermelani. red, sweater covered arms Dear Rose Brungard, in to the ground The fire that he flung at Tara was blocked by a net of flames conjured by the fire mage, Jon Hamilton. Charlie knew that if it was just him and Tara that he could beat her. He was more powerful, but outnumbered. With the dark, he'd be able to destroy Tara. Inside, anger beat at him and his leg muscles tensed as he tried to keep the emotions off of his face. Next time he would get her and he would win. There was no question that he was more powerful. It amused him that the same rumors that used to be told about him. It all only reinforced his belief that he could take her down. Though as he drank wine and clapped old friends on the back, he couldn't help but wonder if he was more powerful or if that was the black magic talking. He pushed the faces of his monk mentors from his mind while the darkness slid over him like a blanket. Tara which was all his fault because he could have stopped her if he had only used all his resources. He had more power in the dark and could have beat her if he had used it. The awkwardness floated away and Misty grinned back. “I really like your pictures. Where did you get them?” Misty watched Devon's face grow stormy and a flood of awkwardness surge over them. I made a poll on Romance Divas and I'm not the only one as almost two-thirds polled admitted to skimming promos. Imogen howson says Ouch! You never want a blog to be boring. If you are doing promos then you might want to do what she says and slap up the blurb and the cover art. I read promos, but I , well, just listen to author Imogen Howson:
“I painted them.” Charlie looked over at Devon.
“Don't you paint, Devon?” She said the words and immediately wished that she hadn't. She twisted in her seat, rubbing her neck with one hand as the other squeezed the fork it had just picked up.
“I used too.” He rolled his eyes. “I also used to run around with a blue towel around my neck pretending to be a firefighter. I was about as good at painting as I am a firefighter.” He smiled.
“I always thought you were good,” Charlie said.
“I think you're getting senile, old man.” He laughed. While and, on the left, were clustered like a small library.He could feel the darkness that the stacks gave off. “Sand covered the floor around the bookshelves.
My name is Samantha Gardner and I am wondering if you would need another cover artist for Romance at Heart. I can tell you that my rates are cheap (much cheaper than the usual prices for quality covers) with no cover being more than $100 which considering that the covers for cover artist, April Martinez, goes for $350. I can deliver the same standard of quality for less.
I have been working with photoshop for seven years, but it has only been in the last year that I have been doing freelance work. I have worked with many romance authors such as James Buchanan and Kissa Starling to create promotional graphics for them. I am a voracious reader of romance books and ebooks in particular so I know what readers are looking for in terms of a cover.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words and I believe that my work can speak for itself. Here are some examples of the work that I have done in the past for authors and website owners.
I'm watching an episode of Jerry Springer about brothers and sisters getting married and women forcing men down the aisle. This reminded me of Romancelandia, our own patch of land in cyberspace, and how strange it can be. We're all adults, but the veil of passive-aggressiveness is sometimes disguised as professionalism. That isn't the majority though because we all know that the loudest voices can obscure that they are coming from a small group. Internet rumors are the worst! Trust me, I know. Usually the best advice is to take a step away from the computer and remember that its online and that the people in the chat rooms can't really affect your life. In Romancelandia, its trickier. Many of the victims of rumors are authors who can actually be negatively affected financially and professionally by the Great Rumor Mill. What is the best thing for an author to do? Or a blogger for that matter? My belief is that we have to stop taking every critical comment as an attack and free up our discussions.
Gossip is addicting. Men, women, children--we all love getting into each other's business. Don't deny it. We all want to think that we are like Melanie from Gone With The Wind and not give a hoot about gossip, but we're not. Honestly, could you grab Scarlet's hand and still be her friend after hearing rumors that she is trying to steal your man? Why do you think that tabloids sell so well? When you add a business like writing into the mix then its a extremely tempting cocktail. Gain traffic on your blog and build a name or let the gossip go? Its a difficult decision because at a truly cynical level gossip in publishing seems to benefit almost everyone. The gossiper get more traffic on her blog and more people checking out her work and the person that she is gossiping about gets the same.
Snark blogs are entertaining as hell and they have another subconscious function in the minds of the citizens of Romancelandia, readers and writers, as the truth tellers and group therapy. When an author wants to reveal a big secret about an epublisher that isn't paying its authors on time, they tend to go to the snark bloggers? Why? Because an author will get shunned for not defending an publisher even if she is getting screwed. They will say that its bad business to air that dirty laundry even if it might help other writers from joining up with that publisher. So, to keep in the good graces of her colleagues, she goes anonymously to the author-hatred snark blogger who posts the story. Want to know what happens a lot of the time? More anonymous complaints come in and more attention comes to the tale. All the passive-aggressive, repressed, and professional masks come off and damn orgy of gossip ensues. Its a big collective release for everyone. People get their woes off of their chests in a way that is much more satisfying than with some girlfriends who have no idea of the culture of Romancelandia. Then there are times when authors are fighting and they use a snark blogger as a cannon. I think its the lack of discussion and debate in Romancelandia that makes the gossip particularly vicious. Everything is taken as an attack so no one dares to say anything. Until they blow up. And, then the snark bloggers and readers grab some popcorn and watch the flames.
Though on the other hand, on the internet, only you can protect yourself. Everyone reminds children about sharing personal and private information online and that should extend to adults as well. Especially professionals. The Internet doesn't replace face-to-face interaction at all because you can't tell if the person across the net is stabbing a voodoo doll of you with one hand while typing with the other. You have to protect yourself. So, make sure that you aren't putting in writing something that you don't want to end up on someone's blog. Have diplomacy and abide by the golden rule and the Great Rumor Mill will probably pass you by. Never think that your comments won't have a reaction because everything has an equal and opposite reaction. Just ask Issac Newton.
Also, if gossip about you that does get out should be treated with as much silence as possible. Don't let your friends write blogs to defend you and don't do it yourself unless you have too. Don't even let your friends write letters to reviewers defending your book and don't do it when the same happens to you because that only hurts you and your friend in the long run because that might turn the reader off of your books. No guilt tripping or nagging or threats because it just puts the reader on the defensive. N o one has sympathy for a lawyer who loses her case because she was having problems at home so why would they for an author who is behaving badly because of whatever problems at home? We all have bad days, months, years so its not fair to readers that writers are the only ones who get a free past. I've had some bad times recently which caused me to act a little more defensive than I should have in a small Internet tiff, but I apologized and acted like a grown women.
When Carol Lynne was getting her books ripped apart, she was quiet about it and it was only other authors who commented and kept the snarking alive (though, it has come to light that she has commented on a public yahoo group which was leaked to the snark blogger who first reviewed her novel which has caused another round of gossip and snark). It was people defending her and the people who were defending snark bloggers that gave the first post life and seemed to piss off some readers who didn't like that authors wanted to censor them. I know that I had quite a few IM sessions about that whole situation which I wouldn't have before because I had never been to that blog. It was only the uproar that followed that brought it to my notice.
Another thing that authors have to realize is that readers don't like it when they are told to read and shut up. If you are acting like a fool in public then people are going to comment on it. Just like if you write something and it gets published then you have to expect that it might get a negative reaction. Even if you write a negative review or just say that you don't like whoever's books, you can get slammed by people who are fans of the book or friends of the author. I myself have gotten a few emails that run along those lines. My favorite was the one that said that since I was a lesbian that meant that I have no right to review heterosexual books. Sorry, friend, but, even with my Sapphic tendencies, I know what I do and don't like in a book. Reader blogs and snark blogs aren't for authors - they are for readers. I read romances way before I tried writing them and I found that a lot of review sites seemed more like the cheering section at homecoming. A book would get five purple sparkle unicorns or what have you and it would be a badly edited monstrosity that made me wonder if the reviewer even read the book. That is why readers love snark blogs because they don't pussy foot around. They will say if a book sucked and give you exact reasons why (at least the best ones do). They keep up a dialog and a community with romance readers that helps keeps readers interested and involved in trying new romance authors. I know that the Smart Bitches blog (linked on my sidebar) was what got me to try ebooks and got me from an occasional romance reader to having my TBR pile become almost all romance. There has to be more that have had a a similar experience. Authors have to realize that their writing is not them and that a review of their book is not a review of their character. Readers shell out the money for your book to be entertained so if they don't get that then they can complain if they want to. If you buy a toaster and it doesn't toast then wouldn't you want to complain to your friends and tell them not to buy that brand of toaster? In fact, authors should be grateful that readers take the time to review because it gives the author free press. Nothing makes a reader gun shy or wary like an author behaving badly or telling them to pipe down. It gives a feeling of us against them and you don't want the consumers of your product to think that you are against them. As a reader, I get awfully annoyed with folks who reply to a review with comments like, 'well, lets see what you have written.' You don't need to write a sentence to have an opinion on a book. After talking to some of my friends, I have found that this is a common reaction and it pisses them off too. Why shell out $5.99 for a book by an author that doesn't seem to respect you as a reader when there are loads of great books out there?
Laurell K Hamilton and Anne Rice have had famous blow-ups against 'negative readers' and the like. It got them publicity and ridicule. Sure, I believe that all press is good press, but I do believe that there is varying degrees of good. If a review is really bugging you then yell about it offline to a friend, eat some chocolate, and let it go. No review is so horrible that it can't get you one of the better degrees of good press. Its the reaction of the author that makes readers annoyed or amused.
I'm not saying that we have to stop all discussion. My whole point is the very opposite. I want people to free themselves and stop being so defensive while at the same time to stop their underhanded attacks. Do I think that this will happen? No. Maybe this might make people think. Maybe not, but I think that the tension in Romancelandia can only be broken if people can stop threatening that their mocked author friend is going to kill themselves and if people stop going behind each other backs and then blame the snark blogger that they used as an Uzi. If you have a gun to your head because Mrs. Giggles gave you a 41 then you shouldn't be a writer. Lets talk about which is a good publisher, lets talk about the nature of snark blogs or why romance doesn't get any respect, but lets stay rational and calm about it. We all have to understand that writers and reader have overlapping circles, but they can't really share all the same places because a reader doesn't want to know a writer's private life and a writer doesn't want to know that everyone thinks that her hero has a stupid name. Its time for some self-awareness.
Remember, no body wins in a poo throwing contest. You just end up covered in poo. What does everyone else think? Am I crazy (because that is definitely a possibility)? Am I being stupid? What's the word, bird? What advice or thoughts do you all have for authors, readers, or bloggers?
Blogging is freaking difficult. What should you say? Will you be interesting? Are you words being heard or are you just shouting into space? Add writing a writerly sort of blog and you have trouble.
Here are a few of my deep thoughts on the subject:
Don't make every other post a promo.
Why? Constant promos can make a blog boring. I tend to skim promos if every entry seems to be one. If you are going to do it then make it a big post of promos and do it about once every two weeks. Also they ought to be promos that are relevant to your blog. If you love paranormals then why have a bunch of promos for inspirations? Thats not what your readers are looking for. Unless the inspirations are about vampires who find Jesus or Buddha or whatever deity. That way your blog stays interesting, topical and you don't sound like an infomercial.
Update regularly.
Why? Because if people think that you aren't going to be blogging then they won't come to your blog. Common sense, no?
Make backup blog entries.
Why? So, when time becomes an issue and you can't spare a minute to blogging then you can just post one of your pre-written blogs and keep on schedule. Though, you have to make sure that they aren't topical ones. If you write a blog post on some recent news event then you ought to put it to the presses as soon as possible or else you'll have people wondering why you wrote such a touching tribute to a late celebrity about three months after their death.
Be coherent.
Why? You want people to understand what you are saying, right? Then why would you write like this: i LuV dis nu authr. Sh is soooooooooo!!!! great!!!! evey1 commont on meh blooooooggge? The translation is that I love this new author, she is so great, everyone comment on my blog. No one says that you have to be perfect, but we got to understand what you are saying, babes.
Be yourself.
Why? Because a blog that is oozing with personality is a memorable blog. That keeps them coming back for more. Its like crack, I tell you, crack! It doesn't matter if you are snarky, funny, serious, or morbid. Just be yourself and you will find that people will want to read you.
Go to other blogs.
Why? If you want people to read you then you have to read others. Find other people with similar interests and comment on their blogs. I'm not saying that you should comment with stuff like, 'Wow, great post. GO TO MY BLOG NOW!' I'm saying that you ought to read around, link to people, and comment a lot. You'll find some interesting people out there who will inspire you in your own blogging and your life.
Have fun.
Why? If you don't enjoy blogging then don't. Everyone can tell if you don't like to. We can tell from infrequent postings, whining about posting, and short posts about the weather. Unless its a tornado and you have just posted that a cow has come zooming by your window. That's pretty interesting.
Those are my deep thoughts. Take them. Leave them. Whatever. I'm, by no means, a great blogger, but I have read enough fantastic bloggers to know what they are like and they do all the things that I have listed above. You don't have to take my advice, but if you aren't reading other blogs, only blogging sporadically, hate blogging, or are posting in tongues, and when you do post you post promos then don't be surprised that you don't have people commenting.
Happy blogging!
Chapter Twelve
“Misty. Hi.” Charlie stood up from his chair. “What are you doing here?”
“I just saw Tara.” Her voice was flat and monotone, chilling him. “Did you have a sexual relationship with Devon when he was your apprentice?” She opened up his screen door. Her dark hair was mussed with locks falling out of her ponytail and her eyes were puffy like she had been crying. A grimace crossed her face. “Did you?”
Charlie froze before nodding his head. Nausea rose in him. “She told you about all that.”
“Yeah, she told me enough about you, Charlie Connor.”
“I'm not the man I used to be.” Charlie looked down, closing his eyes, and could feel her eyes on him. He liked Misty. She was smart, sweet and tough and he felt an inappropriate attraction to her that he did his best to ignore. Sure, he might want to throw her down and make her scream his name and dig her heels into his back, but that couldn't happen because Devon loved her. Another thing he ignored was the voice that told him that he could if only with a few mind spells to pluck out her and Devon's resistance to his advances. It was voice also tempted him to cast dark spells. “Devon was a mistake. I had been young and arrogant. I was riding high on the dark path without a thought to those I was hurting.” He looked at her.
She held her hand up. “What?” Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open. She took a step back.
Her shocked face was like a punch to the gut. “Tara didn't tell you that...?” A cold sweat broke out on him.
“What else should I know about you?” Misty balled up her fists and stomped up to him. She raised her voice. “Is that why Tara wants to kill you? What did you do?”
He stammered, blinking, trying to figure out the words. “I set the fire that killed her family. I didn't know they were in it at the time.” He ran a hand through his hair. A lump sprang up in his throat. “It was after that I went to the monastery to find a way off of the dark path. That's where Padmini found me and offered me a job.”
Misty threw up her hands. “I can't deal with this all now. I'm gonna talk to Padmini in the morning, but we have to work quickly. Tara is a lunatic.” She rubbed her temple as she told him about her meeting with Tara and Devon. Her eyes stared into his: blue against brown.
Charlie closed his eyes as memories of sex with Devon rolled through him. Embarrassment picked at him as he shifted in his chair. He could feel her stare; he tried not to blush from the images that popped into his head. There was a small part of him that did mind the thought of her watching him and Devon fuck, but not in a illusion created by Devon at the command of Tara.
Her face was pale and dark circles ringed her eyes. “I feel like I'm stretched out.” Misty wrung her hands, looking away, with a frown. “There are so many emotions in me that it feels like they are canceling each other out. One moment I am numb and the next I feel like screaming and ripping off my skin. We have to get Devon back.” She sniffed, her eyes grew moist. “We have to take Tara down.” She started to pace and chew on her thumb nail. “Do you think that its too late to call Padmini?” In her fleecy, red sweater she looked like a lost child as she crossed her arms, hugging herself, tilting her head, looking at him, with her thumb between her teeth.
“No, I'm sure that she is still at the abbey.” Charlie stood and gestured to the open door of his kitchen. “Do you want anything to eat? You look very stressed out.”
Misty shook her head, her gaze on the ground, as a two thin lines of tears fell from her eyes.
“How about you sit down on the sofa.” He walked to her and put a hand on the small of her back, rubbing his fingers in circles. “And, try to calm down, Misty. Tara wants to get to you. She wants you to crumble and not fight against her.”
“I know.” Misty wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she let herself be led to the gray sofa. “I just...It feels...” She sighed. “Its like boom. Boom. Boom.” She chopped the palm of her hand with the edge of her other one. “One bad, fucked up, and horrible thing after another. I've been working with the Order since I was a kid and I've never been so messed up about a case.”
“That's because Tara knows you. She knows the Order. She used to mean a lot to you. She was a hero and now she's hurting you in ways that no other dark mage could even think of because you loved her.” Charlie knelt in front of Misty and took her hands in his. Rage was flaring up in him as he watched the tears rolled down her red splotched cheeks. The muscles tensed under his shirt, his heart sped up, and clenched his jaw. He could have prevented this if he thrown all of his arsenal at her even if some of it was as white as tar. Most of his anger was for Tara, but there was a lot that he felt toward himself. Tara had jeopardized his friendship with Misty, caused her to cry, and could have ruined her relationship with Devon. His fingers itched to cast dark spells to sooth Misty's misery and destroy Tara. He took a deep breath.
Misty sobbed, looking towards the door. Her hands trembled. “I know. I just feel so damn weak.”
“Don't be. You've had your lover kidnapped, you mother murdered, and learned some bad stuff about me. You are going through a lot.” He was the one who had been weak, Charlie wanted to tell her. She had given it her all while he had the power to end it all and he didn't.
She nodded.
Charlie kissed her knuckles. “You're a strong woman, Misty Erikson. Don't be ashamed to cry because if anyone has a reason too, you do.” He looked up, his lips still touching her skin. “Just don't let it consume you.”
“Thanks, Charlie. I need to talk to Padmini about what happened.” Misty smiled at him before taking her hands out of his.
He stood and helped her up. Looking down into her tear streaked face, he noticed that even with her eyes puffy that Misty was still a beautiful woman. Her eyes widened as they stared into his. Their breath mingled together as the moment stretched on. In his mind, he thought about pulling her into a kiss. As he wrapping his arms around her, he would push the anguish away by deepening the kiss. Her eyes darkened and her pink tongue licked across her lips. She took a step back, her face tinged with surprise. He ducked his head.
“Thanks again. I'll see you tomorrow.”
He didn't watch her scurry to the door though her sneakers slapping against ground were loud to his ears. Three emotions were battling within him: anger, shame, and lust. Anger won.
Misty's sobs rang in his ear as he walked into his work room. He slammed the door shut. The walls were white with red protection symbols painted on them. Darkness rushed through his veins. It was almost as if someone else's hand was reaching for the ceremonial knife on his shelf. He shouldn't have left the monastery so soon. The words to a chant came out of his mouth without a thought as he walked in a circle. He couldn't handle all the darkness without being tempted. Stepping into the magic circle, Charlie raised the knife. Focusing energy, summoning up his power, he then called out a name. He didn't feel the knife cutting into his palm, but he did feel the warmth of his blood as in gushed out of the wound.
“Tara.” He shook his hand. “Tara.” The blood sprinkled onto the ground. “Tara.”
The electricity flickered. He backed out of the circle before magically sealing it back up. Tara wasn't appearing. He looked to the sides then he felt himself be lifted up and thrown against the door. The door groaned and shook from the impact. It was too slow and too quick. Blinking, he rubbed as hand against his head, looking across the room at the prone body on the floor in the circle.
Tara. Her back, facing him, trembled as she cried out,
Charlie grabbed the doorknob, pushing himself up, his body shaking from the effort as aches and pains wracked his body. His hands grew sweaty. Imaging a fire cage to hold her, he then conjured it.
Screaming, she turned over. The smell of burning hair rose up. The flames' shadows flitted on her body. She shrieked, jumping like she had been burned.
He made a lance of fire. This would be his only chance. He could end this all now. Charlie aimed the lance for her face and threw.
Pain exploded like a supernova in his chest. Keep the cage up, he ordered himself. His hand slipped from the doorknob, he fell to the floor, his head bounced against the floor. The flames sputtered, but he kept feeding them. He focused his pain on building up the fire.
“Charlie, you summoned me?” Tara's voice was low, but cheery. She couldn't roll over without burning her flesh. Without looking at him, she smiled and laughed. Her body looked limp and relaxed. “What am I? A Djinn?” Laughing, she sounded like a mother gently picking fun at her child.
A new tsunami of pain washed against him, Charlie gagged, his eyes felt like they were popping out of his head as he grimaced again. His breath was harsh, quick, and short. It felt like a rough, cold hand was squeezing his heart and lungs. Blood rushed to his face. He slapped his hand against the wood floor.
“Release me now, Charlie Danube Connor. Now!” Tara crossed her arms, careful to avoid the bars, and continued. “Didn't you hear me? I said now.”
He collapsed, his heart sped up, and he could only blink and shake as the searing pain wore on his control. He had to keep up the cage. His feet were growing cold and coughs shook his body bring up blood. If he had the breath he knew that he would have screamed. She was too strong and he was too weak. He had used dark magic, she had been alone, and he still lost. He wasn't more powerful than her. Tara Pike was a hell of a lot stronger than he could be in his wildest fantasies. That fact should have made him hold on harder. He should have been able to be the hero, but he wasn't. Tara sent a vicious bolt of agony through him. He wished that it was because he felt light magic moving towards him that made him let go of them fire cage. The pain became to much, his vision grew black, and the fire cage dropped leaving the room dim. Or maybe that was him falling unconscious thankful that someone was there.
Chapter Thirteen
Misty huddled against herself and the wall. The two healers had their palms pressed against Charlie's chest. Even with the calm and sunny yellow walls, the Infirmary still seemed dull and grim. The big fire mage looked small on the tidy, white bed. The large lump on his head was crusted in blood and the bruise was purple. His breath was hoarse; he looked at her. His eyes were red from broken capillaries. A weak smile twitched at his lips.
She was getting ready for bed when she had been called. It hadn't even been an hour since she had left his house and only a few minutes after she had gotten done talking with Padmini who assured her that Charlie had been reformed. Tara had struck again. Seeing him so hurt, brought up too many uncomfortable emotions. She had wanted to kiss him in his living room. Hell, she had wanted to do more. Her love for Devon wasn't gone, it wasn't diminished, but there was something between her and Charlie. Anger at Tara knocked any tender feelings for the fire mage into the background. Misty was choking at her hatred. Her nails dug into her side as she looked at Charlie.
One of the healer stood from his chair and walked toward her.
“What happened? What did Tara do to him?” Misty ran a hand through her hair and tugged on the locks. “Can you heal him, Glenn?”
“Of course, we can heal him.” Glenn broke into a grin, his dark sun-wrinkled face crinkled up, before it fell into a frown again. “It seems like Tara appeared into his house and, while he tried to defend himself, she used her magic to compress the organs in his chest. Its nothing that we can't fix rather quickly, but it must have been very painful for him.” Disgust shone on his features. “I had trained her.” He sighed. “Why don't you get some air, Misty. We are going put him to sleep so we can work on healing the damage. It should only take an hour or so at most.”
“Thanks.” Misty nodded before turning around and walking out the door.
The Abbey seemed empty. The hall was dark and only the lights, outside the windows, from offices across the courtyard illuminated her way. She felt like her insides were boiling from her rancor. Looking at the door leading to the courtyard, she opened it and the breeze blew her hair in her face. She looked through the strands down the hall. Padmini's office was at the end. Padmini was had left, she had told Misty earlier, on a mission to the Gobi Desert of the Witch Plane. There was no one watching her, she knew this from the lack of concentrated blobs of moisture that made up people in her water sense, so there was no one to stop her from going into Padmini's room.
She didn't noticed that she had walked back into the hall leaving the door to close behind her. Her sneakers were silent on the stone floor. Only the tapestries witnessed her passing. Padmini's room had an alarm, but being the best friend of the Abbess had its benefits such as total access to her office.
“Misty,” She whispered against the door and it swung open.
The bookshelves on the left side of the room called to her. That was where the darkcraft books were kept. They wrapped the walls, but on that side of the room their were three of them lined up in front of each other like something in a library. She needed clearance to step on the sand that covered that part of the floor, but Misty just wasn't any member of the Order of Elpis, she had been trained here all her life and had risen in the rank accordingly. Summoning up some water in her open palm, she watched it slip through her fingers and out onto the sand. Padmini would be angry with her, but Misty would have to deal with that later. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Almost everyone she cared about had been hurt or murder by Tara while Misty had been playing by the rules.
She stepped onto the sand.
Love Under Siege by Samantha Kane is hot. Really hot. This ebook should come with the warning that your screen will burst into flames and will singe your eyebrows. Not only that, but it has a lot more at its core. Its the story of a women's (Maggie) sexual awakening that is told with sympathy and honesty (even though in real life, two hot guys wanting to pleasure and treasure you forever doesn't really happen unless you sold your soul somewhere along the line). And, Maggie isn't the only one who reaches a sexual maturity and road to understanding. Her two lovers, Philip and Jonathon, go through the same thing as well. That is not to say that Love Under Siege is introspective by any means, but it has a soul to it that is lacking in many erotic romances. You can tell that all three of them love each other and the kinky sex they have doesn't negate it by any means. This is a threesome written right. Love Under Siege gets an A.
Maggie and Philip have been married for three months and neither are satisfied sexually or emotionally. Philip can't forget the time he spent in the Peninsula War with Jonathon where they relied on each other and shared everything in order to survive under the harsh Spanish sun. They also shared women. Philip is worried that his naive and virtuous bride would scorn him if she knew of his desires. Yeah, that doesn't last for long. The plot is very focused on the relationship between Jonathon, Maggie, and Philip with only a few subplots that began and ran in and through Samantha Kane's other books. Some people might be put off by this, but I thought that the intense focus on the threesome helped make it a real romance. Other threesomes I have read didn't quite connect all the members of the trio to each other. In Love Under Siege, you can clearly see that everyone is in love with each other. Its like three love stories for the price of one. While the tight focus on the plot was a good thing, I wished that Kane could have woven the subplots a little better into the story. Its not all that noticeable, but it might annoy some readers.
The characters were fun and were a joy to read about. Love Under Siege works well as a stand alone book or in the Brothers In Arms series. If you don't know, the Brothers In Arms series is about a group of veterans of the Peninsula War who, like Jonathon and Philip, have become very close and may or may not be sharing ladies. She manages to take similar stories and make them all different beyond boy and boy met girl and want to have crazy monkey sex with her. Samantha Kane is good at making characters. I've read everything that Kane has written and I have enjoyed them all. Love Under Siege is the best in the series and the best that she has written. Its a great book so if you like menages or historicals then you ought to check it out at Ellora's Cave. What do you guys think about this book?
Oh, no, it was not an ordinary chair.
There was something so wrong about this all. Will knew it before Angelus' hard chest was pressed against his own and icy breath whispered into his ears. Death in the form of a insane child in a woman's body had taken him and the rules warm and weak living were long past, but the voice that used to be his soul rose from the dead, more strongly than he had, to tell him of the perversity.
That voice grew dim as Angelus yanked him into a kiss more suited from a shark. Drusilla whimpered from her chains. The rattle of the metal hurt his head more than the wall the dark demon threw him against. Angelus' dark eyes glowed like pennies in the sun as he ripped down Will's trousers. His grin was pure night and the glint of his white teeth were as bright as the stars. It made him forget the sun.
Angelus dragged him to Drusilla. Will's feet tangled into his pants and he had to pulled up.
She cooed and wiggled her captive fingers at him. Blood ran down her front, pooling on the ground, from the thin marks of a knife. Dried blood flaked off her like red snow. She had never seemed so pale.
Angelus placed his hands on Drusilla's shoulders with all the care of an artist as if they were oranges and quills in a still life.
That voice inside him spoke again, but he couldn't hear it. Drusilla's face was as luminous as the moon and satan was behind him ready to thrust. He could see the shine of his own agony on her face.
Effulgent.
by one of your minions. Now, tell me, Tara, what was the point of that?“Honey, of course I don't want you to hate me. I just want you to realize who you are working with.” Tara sighed like a mother explaining to a child why they were being punished. “Your mother was a horrible excuse for a parent. You should be happy that I finally got her out of your life so you could move on. You don't have to wonder anymore about if she will ever stop being so selfish. She's gone and you are free from her influence.” It was for your own good.” while The sun at set awhile ago so the streets were empty on this Tuesday night because even in the Frieda district people still needed to get up for work in the morning.in Vermelani. red, sweater covered arms Dear Rose Brungard, in to the ground The fire that he flung at Tara was blocked by a net of flames conjured by the fire mage, Jon Hamilton. Charlie knew that if it was just him and Tara that he could beat her. He was more powerful, but outnumbered. With the dark, he'd be able to destroy Tara. Inside, anger beat at him and his leg muscles tensed as he tried to keep the emotions off of his face. Next time he would get her and he would win. There was no question that he was more powerful. It amused him that the same rumors that used to be told about him. It all only reinforced his belief that he could take her down. Though as he drank wine and clapped old friends on the back, he couldn't help but wonder if he was more powerful or if that was the black magic talking. He pushed the faces of his monk mentors from his mind while the darkness slid over him like a blanket. Tara which was all his fault because he could have stopped her if he had only used all his resources. He had more power in the dark and could have beat her if he had used it. The awkwardness floated away and Misty grinned back. “I really like your pictures. Where did you get them?” Misty watched Devon's face grow stormy and a flood of awkwardness surge over them. I made a poll on Romance Divas and I'm not the only one as almost two-thirds polled admitted to skimming promos. Imogen howson says Ouch! You never want a blog to be boring. If you are doing promos then you might want to do what she says and slap up the blurb and the cover art. I read promos, but I , well, just listen to author Imogen Howson:
“I painted them.” Charlie looked over at Devon.
“Don't you paint, Devon?” She said the words and immediately wished that she hadn't. She twisted in her seat, rubbing her neck with one hand as the other squeezed the fork it had just picked up.
“I used too.” He rolled his eyes. “I also used to run around with a blue towel around my neck pretending to be a firefighter. I was about as good at painting as I am a firefighter.” He smiled.
“I always thought you were good,” Charlie said.
“I think you're getting senile, old man.” He laughed. While and, on the left, were clustered like a small library.He could feel the darkness that the stacks gave off. “Sand covered the floor around the bookshelves.
My name is Samantha Gardner and I am wondering if you would need another cover artist for Romance at Heart. I can tell you that my rates are cheap (much cheaper than the usual prices for quality covers) with no cover being more than $100 which considering that the covers for cover artist, April Martinez, goes for $350. I can deliver the same standard of quality for less.
I have been working with photoshop for seven years, but it has only been in the last year that I have been doing freelance work. I have worked with many romance authors such as James Buchanan and Kissa Starling to create promotional graphics for them. I am a voracious reader of romance books and ebooks in particular so I know what readers are looking for in terms of a cover.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words and I believe that my work can speak for itself. Here are some examples of the work that I have done in the past for authors and website owners.
I'm watching an episode of Jerry Springer about brothers and sisters getting married and women forcing men down the aisle. This reminded me of Romancelandia, our own patch of land in cyberspace, and how strange it can be. We're all adults, but the veil of passive-aggressiveness is sometimes disguised as professionalism. That isn't the majority though because we all know that the loudest voices can obscure that they are coming from a small group. Internet rumors are the worst! Trust me, I know. Usually the best advice is to take a step away from the computer and remember that its online and that the people in the chat rooms can't really affect your life. In Romancelandia, its trickier. Many of the victims of rumors are authors who can actually be negatively affected financially and professionally by the Great Rumor Mill. What is the best thing for an author to do? Or a blogger for that matter? My belief is that we have to stop taking every critical comment as an attack and free up our discussions.
Gossip is addicting. Men, women, children--we all love getting into each other's business. Don't deny it. We all want to think that we are like Melanie from Gone With The Wind and not give a hoot about gossip, but we're not. Honestly, could you grab Scarlet's hand and still be her friend after hearing rumors that she is trying to steal your man? Why do you think that tabloids sell so well? When you add a business like writing into the mix then its a extremely tempting cocktail. Gain traffic on your blog and build a name or let the gossip go? Its a difficult decision because at a truly cynical level gossip in publishing seems to benefit almost everyone. The gossiper get more traffic on her blog and more people checking out her work and the person that she is gossiping about gets the same.
Snark blogs are entertaining as hell and they have another subconscious function in the minds of the citizens of Romancelandia, readers and writers, as the truth tellers and group therapy. When an author wants to reveal a big secret about an epublisher that isn't paying its authors on time, they tend to go to the snark bloggers? Why? Because an author will get shunned for not defending an publisher even if she is getting screwed. They will say that its bad business to air that dirty laundry even if it might help other writers from joining up with that publisher. So, to keep in the good graces of her colleagues, she goes anonymously to the author-hatred snark blogger who posts the story. Want to know what happens a lot of the time? More anonymous complaints come in and more attention comes to the tale. All the passive-aggressive, repressed, and professional masks come off and damn orgy of gossip ensues. Its a big collective release for everyone. People get their woes off of their chests in a way that is much more satisfying than with some girlfriends who have no idea of the culture of Romancelandia. Then there are times when authors are fighting and they use a snark blogger as a cannon. I think its the lack of discussion and debate in Romancelandia that makes the gossip particularly vicious. Everything is taken as an attack so no one dares to say anything. Until they blow up. And, then the snark bloggers and readers grab some popcorn and watch the flames.
Though on the other hand, on the internet, only you can protect yourself. Everyone reminds children about sharing personal and private information online and that should extend to adults as well. Especially professionals. The Internet doesn't replace face-to-face interaction at all because you can't tell if the person across the net is stabbing a voodoo doll of you with one hand while typing with the other. You have to protect yourself. So, make sure that you aren't putting in writing something that you don't want to end up on someone's blog. Have diplomacy and abide by the golden rule and the Great Rumor Mill will probably pass you by. Never think that your comments won't have a reaction because everything has an equal and opposite reaction. Just ask Issac Newton.
Also, if gossip about you that does get out should be treated with as much silence as possible. Don't let your friends write blogs to defend you and don't do it yourself unless you have too. Don't even let your friends write letters to reviewers defending your book and don't do it when the same happens to you because that only hurts you and your friend in the long run because that might turn the reader off of your books. No guilt tripping or nagging or threats because it just puts the reader on the defensive. N o one has sympathy for a lawyer who loses her case because she was having problems at home so why would they for an author who is behaving badly because of whatever problems at home? We all have bad days, months, years so its not fair to readers that writers are the only ones who get a free past. I've had some bad times recently which caused me to act a little more defensive than I should have in a small Internet tiff, but I apologized and acted like a grown women.
When Carol Lynne was getting her books ripped apart, she was quiet about it and it was only other authors who commented and kept the snarking alive (though, it has come to light that she has commented on a public yahoo group which was leaked to the snark blogger who first reviewed her novel which has caused another round of gossip and snark). It was people defending her and the people who were defending snark bloggers that gave the first post life and seemed to piss off some readers who didn't like that authors wanted to censor them. I know that I had quite a few IM sessions about that whole situation which I wouldn't have before because I had never been to that blog. It was only the uproar that followed that brought it to my notice.
Another thing that authors have to realize is that readers don't like it when they are told to read and shut up. If you are acting like a fool in public then people are going to comment on it. Just like if you write something and it gets published then you have to expect that it might get a negative reaction. Even if you write a negative review or just say that you don't like whoever's books, you can get slammed by people who are fans of the book or friends of the author. I myself have gotten a few emails that run along those lines. My favorite was the one that said that since I was a lesbian that meant that I have no right to review heterosexual books. Sorry, friend, but, even with my Sapphic tendencies, I know what I do and don't like in a book. Reader blogs and snark blogs aren't for authors - they are for readers. I read romances way before I tried writing them and I found that a lot of review sites seemed more like the cheering section at homecoming. A book would get five purple sparkle unicorns or what have you and it would be a badly edited monstrosity that made me wonder if the reviewer even read the book. That is why readers love snark blogs because they don't pussy foot around. They will say if a book sucked and give you exact reasons why (at least the best ones do). They keep up a dialog and a community with romance readers that helps keeps readers interested and involved in trying new romance authors. I know that the Smart Bitches blog (linked on my sidebar) was what got me to try ebooks and got me from an occasional romance reader to having my TBR pile become almost all romance. There has to be more that have had a a similar experience. Authors have to realize that their writing is not them and that a review of their book is not a review of their character. Readers shell out the money for your book to be entertained so if they don't get that then they can complain if they want to. If you buy a toaster and it doesn't toast then wouldn't you want to complain to your friends and tell them not to buy that brand of toaster? In fact, authors should be grateful that readers take the time to review because it gives the author free press. Nothing makes a reader gun shy or wary like an author behaving badly or telling them to pipe down. It gives a feeling of us against them and you don't want the consumers of your product to think that you are against them. As a reader, I get awfully annoyed with folks who reply to a review with comments like, 'well, lets see what you have written.' You don't need to write a sentence to have an opinion on a book. After talking to some of my friends, I have found that this is a common reaction and it pisses them off too. Why shell out $5.99 for a book by an author that doesn't seem to respect you as a reader when there are loads of great books out there?
Laurell K Hamilton and Anne Rice have had famous blow-ups against 'negative readers' and the like. It got them publicity and ridicule. Sure, I believe that all press is good press, but I do believe that there is varying degrees of good. If a review is really bugging you then yell about it offline to a friend, eat some chocolate, and let it go. No review is so horrible that it can't get you one of the better degrees of good press. Its the reaction of the author that makes readers annoyed or amused.
I'm not saying that we have to stop all discussion. My whole point is the very opposite. I want people to free themselves and stop being so defensive while at the same time to stop their underhanded attacks. Do I think that this will happen? No. Maybe this might make people think. Maybe not, but I think that the tension in Romancelandia can only be broken if people can stop threatening that their mocked author friend is going to kill themselves and if people stop going behind each other backs and then blame the snark blogger that they used as an Uzi. If you have a gun to your head because Mrs. Giggles gave you a 41 then you shouldn't be a writer. Lets talk about which is a good publisher, lets talk about the nature of snark blogs or why romance doesn't get any respect, but lets stay rational and calm about it. We all have to understand that writers and reader have overlapping circles, but they can't really share all the same places because a reader doesn't want to know a writer's private life and a writer doesn't want to know that everyone thinks that her hero has a stupid name. Its time for some self-awareness.
Remember, no body wins in a poo throwing contest. You just end up covered in poo. What does everyone else think? Am I crazy (because that is definitely a possibility)? Am I being stupid? What's the word, bird? What advice or thoughts do you all have for authors, readers, or bloggers?
Blogging is freaking difficult. What should you say? Will you be interesting? Are you words being heard or are you just shouting into space? Add writing a writerly sort of blog and you have trouble.
Here are a few of my deep thoughts on the subject:
Don't make every other post a promo.
Why? Constant promos can make a blog boring. I tend to skim promos if every entry seems to be one. If you are going to do it then make it a big post of promos and do it about once every two weeks. Also they ought to be promos that are relevant to your blog. If you love paranormals then why have a bunch of promos for inspirations? Thats not what your readers are looking for. Unless the inspirations are about vampires who find Jesus or Buddha or whatever deity. That way your blog stays interesting, topical and you don't sound like an infomercial.
Update regularly.
Why? Because if people think that you aren't going to be blogging then they won't come to your blog. Common sense, no?
Make backup blog entries.
Why? So, when time becomes an issue and you can't spare a minute to blogging then you can just post one of your pre-written blogs and keep on schedule. Though, you have to make sure that they aren't topical ones. If you write a blog post on some recent news event then you ought to put it to the presses as soon as possible or else you'll have people wondering why you wrote such a touching tribute to a late celebrity about three months after their death.
Be coherent.
Why? You want people to understand what you are saying, right? Then why would you write like this: i LuV dis nu authr. Sh is soooooooooo!!!! great!!!! evey1 commont on meh blooooooggge? The translation is that I love this new author, she is so great, everyone comment on my blog. No one says that you have to be perfect, but we got to understand what you are saying, babes.
Be yourself.
Why? Because a blog that is oozing with personality is a memorable blog. That keeps them coming back for more. Its like crack, I tell you, crack! It doesn't matter if you are snarky, funny, serious, or morbid. Just be yourself and you will find that people will want to read you.
Go to other blogs.
Why? If you want people to read you then you have to read others. Find other people with similar interests and comment on their blogs. I'm not saying that you should comment with stuff like, 'Wow, great post. GO TO MY BLOG NOW!' I'm saying that you ought to read around, link to people, and comment a lot. You'll find some interesting people out there who will inspire you in your own blogging and your life.
Have fun.
Why? If you don't enjoy blogging then don't. Everyone can tell if you don't like to. We can tell from infrequent postings, whining about posting, and short posts about the weather. Unless its a tornado and you have just posted that a cow has come zooming by your window. That's pretty interesting.
Those are my deep thoughts. Take them. Leave them. Whatever. I'm, by no means, a great blogger, but I have read enough fantastic bloggers to know what they are like and they do all the things that I have listed above. You don't have to take my advice, but if you aren't reading other blogs, only blogging sporadically, hate blogging, or are posting in tongues, and when you do post you post promos then don't be surprised that you don't have people commenting.
Happy blogging!
Chapter Twelve
“Misty. Hi.” Charlie stood up from his chair. “What are you doing here?”
“I just saw Tara.” Her voice was flat and monotone, chilling him. “Did you have a sexual relationship with Devon when he was your apprentice?” She opened up his screen door. Her dark hair was mussed with locks falling out of her ponytail and her eyes were puffy like she had been crying. A grimace crossed her face. “Did you?”
Charlie froze before nodding his head. Nausea rose in him. “She told you about all that.”
“Yeah, she told me enough about you, Charlie Connor.”
“I'm not the man I used to be.” Charlie looked down, closing his eyes, and could feel her eyes on him. He liked Misty. She was smart, sweet and tough and he felt an inappropriate attraction to her that he did his best to ignore. Sure, he might want to throw her down and make her scream his name and dig her heels into his back, but that couldn't happen because Devon loved her. Another thing he ignored was the voice that told him that he could if only with a few mind spells to pluck out her and Devon's resistance to his advances. It was voice also tempted him to cast dark spells. “Devon was a mistake. I had been young and arrogant. I was riding high on the dark path without a thought to those I was hurting.” He looked at her.
She held her hand up. “What?” Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open. She took a step back.
Her shocked face was like a punch to the gut. “Tara didn't tell you that...?” A cold sweat broke out on him.
“What else should I know about you?” Misty balled up her fists and stomped up to him. She raised her voice. “Is that why Tara wants to kill you? What did you do?”
He stammered, blinking, trying to figure out the words. “I set the fire that killed her family. I didn't know they were in it at the time.” He ran a hand through his hair. A lump sprang up in his throat. “It was after that I went to the monastery to find a way off of the dark path. That's where Padmini found me and offered me a job.”
Misty threw up her hands. “I can't deal with this all now. I'm gonna talk to Padmini in the morning, but we have to work quickly. Tara is a lunatic.” She rubbed her temple as she told him about her meeting with Tara and Devon. Her eyes stared into his: blue against brown.
Charlie closed his eyes as memories of sex with Devon rolled through him. Embarrassment picked at him as he shifted in his chair. He could feel her stare; he tried not to blush from the images that popped into his head. There was a small part of him that did mind the thought of her watching him and Devon fuck, but not in a illusion created by Devon at the command of Tara.
Her face was pale and dark circles ringed her eyes. “I feel like I'm stretched out.” Misty wrung her hands, looking away, with a frown. “There are so many emotions in me that it feels like they are canceling each other out. One moment I am numb and the next I feel like screaming and ripping off my skin. We have to get Devon back.” She sniffed, her eyes grew moist. “We have to take Tara down.” She started to pace and chew on her thumb nail. “Do you think that its too late to call Padmini?” In her fleecy, red sweater she looked like a lost child as she crossed her arms, hugging herself, tilting her head, looking at him, with her thumb between her teeth.
“No, I'm sure that she is still at the abbey.” Charlie stood and gestured to the open door of his kitchen. “Do you want anything to eat? You look very stressed out.”
Misty shook her head, her gaze on the ground, as a two thin lines of tears fell from her eyes.
“How about you sit down on the sofa.” He walked to her and put a hand on the small of her back, rubbing his fingers in circles. “And, try to calm down, Misty. Tara wants to get to you. She wants you to crumble and not fight against her.”
“I know.” Misty wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she let herself be led to the gray sofa. “I just...It feels...” She sighed. “Its like boom. Boom. Boom.” She chopped the palm of her hand with the edge of her other one. “One bad, fucked up, and horrible thing after another. I've been working with the Order since I was a kid and I've never been so messed up about a case.”
“That's because Tara knows you. She knows the Order. She used to mean a lot to you. She was a hero and now she's hurting you in ways that no other dark mage could even think of because you loved her.” Charlie knelt in front of Misty and took her hands in his. Rage was flaring up in him as he watched the tears rolled down her red splotched cheeks. The muscles tensed under his shirt, his heart sped up, and clenched his jaw. He could have prevented this if he thrown all of his arsenal at her even if some of it was as white as tar. Most of his anger was for Tara, but there was a lot that he felt toward himself. Tara had jeopardized his friendship with Misty, caused her to cry, and could have ruined her relationship with Devon. His fingers itched to cast dark spells to sooth Misty's misery and destroy Tara. He took a deep breath.
Misty sobbed, looking towards the door. Her hands trembled. “I know. I just feel so damn weak.”
“Don't be. You've had your lover kidnapped, you mother murdered, and learned some bad stuff about me. You are going through a lot.” He was the one who had been weak, Charlie wanted to tell her. She had given it her all while he had the power to end it all and he didn't.
She nodded.
Charlie kissed her knuckles. “You're a strong woman, Misty Erikson. Don't be ashamed to cry because if anyone has a reason too, you do.” He looked up, his lips still touching her skin. “Just don't let it consume you.”
“Thanks, Charlie. I need to talk to Padmini about what happened.” Misty smiled at him before taking her hands out of his.
He stood and helped her up. Looking down into her tear streaked face, he noticed that even with her eyes puffy that Misty was still a beautiful woman. Her eyes widened as they stared into his. Their breath mingled together as the moment stretched on. In his mind, he thought about pulling her into a kiss. As he wrapping his arms around her, he would push the anguish away by deepening the kiss. Her eyes darkened and her pink tongue licked across her lips. She took a step back, her face tinged with surprise. He ducked his head.
“Thanks again. I'll see you tomorrow.”
He didn't watch her scurry to the door though her sneakers slapping against ground were loud to his ears. Three emotions were battling within him: anger, shame, and lust. Anger won.
Misty's sobs rang in his ear as he walked into his work room. He slammed the door shut. The walls were white with red protection symbols painted on them. Darkness rushed through his veins. It was almost as if someone else's hand was reaching for the ceremonial knife on his shelf. He shouldn't have left the monastery so soon. The words to a chant came out of his mouth without a thought as he walked in a circle. He couldn't handle all the darkness without being tempted. Stepping into the magic circle, Charlie raised the knife. Focusing energy, summoning up his power, he then called out a name. He didn't feel the knife cutting into his palm, but he did feel the warmth of his blood as in gushed out of the wound.
“Tara.” He shook his hand. “Tara.” The blood sprinkled onto the ground. “Tara.”
The electricity flickered. He backed out of the circle before magically sealing it back up. Tara wasn't appearing. He looked to the sides then he felt himself be lifted up and thrown against the door. The door groaned and shook from the impact. It was too slow and too quick. Blinking, he rubbed as hand against his head, looking across the room at the prone body on the floor in the circle.
Tara. Her back, facing him, trembled as she cried out,
Charlie grabbed the doorknob, pushing himself up, his body shaking from the effort as aches and pains wracked his body. His hands grew sweaty. Imaging a fire cage to hold her, he then conjured it.
Screaming, she turned over. The smell of burning hair rose up. The flames' shadows flitted on her body. She shrieked, jumping like she had been burned.
He made a lance of fire. This would be his only chance. He could end this all now. Charlie aimed the lance for her face and threw.
Pain exploded like a supernova in his chest. Keep the cage up, he ordered himself. His hand slipped from the doorknob, he fell to the floor, his head bounced against the floor. The flames sputtered, but he kept feeding them. He focused his pain on building up the fire.
“Charlie, you summoned me?” Tara's voice was low, but cheery. She couldn't roll over without burning her flesh. Without looking at him, she smiled and laughed. Her body looked limp and relaxed. “What am I? A Djinn?” Laughing, she sounded like a mother gently picking fun at her child.
A new tsunami of pain washed against him, Charlie gagged, his eyes felt like they were popping out of his head as he grimaced again. His breath was harsh, quick, and short. It felt like a rough, cold hand was squeezing his heart and lungs. Blood rushed to his face. He slapped his hand against the wood floor.
“Release me now, Charlie Danube Connor. Now!” Tara crossed her arms, careful to avoid the bars, and continued. “Didn't you hear me? I said now.”
He collapsed, his heart sped up, and he could only blink and shake as the searing pain wore on his control. He had to keep up the cage. His feet were growing cold and coughs shook his body bring up blood. If he had the breath he knew that he would have screamed. She was too strong and he was too weak. He had used dark magic, she had been alone, and he still lost. He wasn't more powerful than her. Tara Pike was a hell of a lot stronger than he could be in his wildest fantasies. That fact should have made him hold on harder. He should have been able to be the hero, but he wasn't. Tara sent a vicious bolt of agony through him. He wished that it was because he felt light magic moving towards him that made him let go of them fire cage. The pain became to much, his vision grew black, and the fire cage dropped leaving the room dim. Or maybe that was him falling unconscious thankful that someone was there.
Chapter Thirteen
Misty huddled against herself and the wall. The two healers had their palms pressed against Charlie's chest. Even with the calm and sunny yellow walls, the Infirmary still seemed dull and grim. The big fire mage looked small on the tidy, white bed. The large lump on his head was crusted in blood and the bruise was purple. His breath was hoarse; he looked at her. His eyes were red from broken capillaries. A weak smile twitched at his lips.
She was getting ready for bed when she had been called. It hadn't even been an hour since she had left his house and only a few minutes after she had gotten done talking with Padmini who assured her that Charlie had been reformed. Tara had struck again. Seeing him so hurt, brought up too many uncomfortable emotions. She had wanted to kiss him in his living room. Hell, she had wanted to do more. Her love for Devon wasn't gone, it wasn't diminished, but there was something between her and Charlie. Anger at Tara knocked any tender feelings for the fire mage into the background. Misty was choking at her hatred. Her nails dug into her side as she looked at Charlie.
One of the healer stood from his chair and walked toward her.
“What happened? What did Tara do to him?” Misty ran a hand through her hair and tugged on the locks. “Can you heal him, Glenn?”
“Of course, we can heal him.” Glenn broke into a grin, his dark sun-wrinkled face crinkled up, before it fell into a frown again. “It seems like Tara appeared into his house and, while he tried to defend himself, she used her magic to compress the organs in his chest. Its nothing that we can't fix rather quickly, but it must have been very painful for him.” Disgust shone on his features. “I had trained her.” He sighed. “Why don't you get some air, Misty. We are going put him to sleep so we can work on healing the damage. It should only take an hour or so at most.”
“Thanks.” Misty nodded before turning around and walking out the door.
The Abbey seemed empty. The hall was dark and only the lights, outside the windows, from offices across the courtyard illuminated her way. She felt like her insides were boiling from her rancor. Looking at the door leading to the courtyard, she opened it and the breeze blew her hair in her face. She looked through the strands down the hall. Padmini's office was at the end. Padmini was had left, she had told Misty earlier, on a mission to the Gobi Desert of the Witch Plane. There was no one watching her, she knew this from the lack of concentrated blobs of moisture that made up people in her water sense, so there was no one to stop her from going into Padmini's room.
She didn't noticed that she had walked back into the hall leaving the door to close behind her. Her sneakers were silent on the stone floor. Only the tapestries witnessed her passing. Padmini's room had an alarm, but being the best friend of the Abbess had its benefits such as total access to her office.
“Misty,” She whispered against the door and it swung open.
The bookshelves on the left side of the room called to her. That was where the darkcraft books were kept. They wrapped the walls, but on that side of the room their were three of them lined up in front of each other like something in a library. She needed clearance to step on the sand that covered that part of the floor, but Misty just wasn't any member of the Order of Elpis, she had been trained here all her life and had risen in the rank accordingly. Summoning up some water in her open palm, she watched it slip through her fingers and out onto the sand. Padmini would be angry with her, but Misty would have to deal with that later. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Almost everyone she cared about had been hurt or murder by Tara while Misty had been playing by the rules.
She stepped onto the sand.
Love Under Siege by Samantha Kane is hot. Really hot. This ebook should come with the warning that your screen will burst into flames and will singe your eyebrows. Not only that, but it has a lot more at its core. Its the story of a women's (Maggie) sexual awakening that is told with sympathy and honesty (even though in real life, two hot guys wanting to pleasure and treasure you forever doesn't really happen unless you sold your soul somewhere along the line). And, Maggie isn't the only one who reaches a sexual maturity and road to understanding. Her two lovers, Philip and Jonathon, go through the same thing as well. That is not to say that Love Under Siege is introspective by any means, but it has a soul to it that is lacking in many erotic romances. You can tell that all three of them love each other and the kinky sex they have doesn't negate it by any means. This is a threesome written right. Love Under Siege gets an A.
Maggie and Philip have been married for three months and neither are satisfied sexually or emotionally. Philip can't forget the time he spent in the Peninsula War with Jonathon where they relied on each other and shared everything in order to survive under the harsh Spanish sun. They also shared women. Philip is worried that his naive and virtuous bride would scorn him if she knew of his desires. Yeah, that doesn't last for long. The plot is very focused on the relationship between Jonathon, Maggie, and Philip with only a few subplots that began and ran in and through Samantha Kane's other books. Some people might be put off by this, but I thought that the intense focus on the threesome helped make it a real romance. Other threesomes I have read didn't quite connect all the members of the trio to each other. In Love Under Siege, you can clearly see that everyone is in love with each other. Its like three love stories for the price of one. While the tight focus on the plot was a good thing, I wished that Kane could have woven the subplots a little better into the story. Its not all that noticeable, but it might annoy some readers.
The characters were fun and were a joy to read about. Love Under Siege works well as a stand alone book or in the Brothers In Arms series. If you don't know, the Brothers In Arms series is about a group of veterans of the Peninsula War who, like Jonathon and Philip, have become very close and may or may not be sharing ladies. She manages to take similar stories and make them all different beyond boy and boy met girl and want to have crazy monkey sex with her. Samantha Kane is good at making characters. I've read everything that Kane has written and I have enjoyed them all. Love Under Siege is the best in the series and the best that she has written. Its a great book so if you like menages or historicals then you ought to check it out at Ellora's Cave. What do you guys think about this book?
Oh, no, it was not an ordinary chair.
There was something so wrong about this all. Will knew it before Angelus' hard chest was pressed against his own and icy breath whispered into his ears. Death in the form of a insane child in a woman's body had taken him and the rules warm and weak living were long past, but the voice that used to be his soul rose from the dead, more strongly than he had, to tell him of the perversity.
That voice grew dim as Angelus yanked him into a kiss more suited from a shark. Drusilla whimpered from her chains. The rattle of the metal hurt his head more than the wall the dark demon threw him against. Angelus' dark eyes glowed like pennies in the sun as he ripped down Will's trousers. His grin was pure night and the glint of his white teeth were as bright as the stars. It made him forget the sun.
Angelus dragged him to Drusilla. Will's feet tangled into his pants and he had to pulled up.
She cooed and wiggled her captive fingers at him. Blood ran down her front, pooling on the ground, from the thin marks of a knife. Dried blood flaked off her like red snow. She had never seemed so pale.
Angelus placed his hands on Drusilla's shoulders with all the care of an artist as if they were oranges and quills in a still life.
That voice inside him spoke again, but he couldn't hear it. Drusilla's face was as luminous as the moon and satan was behind him ready to thrust. He could see the shine of his own agony on her face.
Effulgent.