tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72167072224545145722024-02-07T17:32:18.499-08:00Patricia Logan Books and MoreAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-37321146762706399312017-10-03T10:25:00.004-07:002017-10-03T10:25:37.295-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Author’s note<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">While
writing Body and Soul (Death and Destruction book 7) an evil man broke out two windows at the Mandalay Hotel
in Las Vegas and began shooting hundreds of innocent people attending a country
music concert in a parking lot. At last count, he managed to take 59 innocent
lives, wounding 527 in total. He managed to forever change our lives and force
us to once again stop and take inventory of ourselves. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Death and
Destruction series is all about the ATF, men and women who go to work every day
to enforce laws and regulations with regard to firearms in this country (USA). I
cannot begin to imagine how frustrating it must be for real-life agents to have
to watch killers like the one in Las Vegas (who I will not dignify with a
name), and perhaps think that they might have been able to do something to stop
him or at least stop him from obtaining that much firepower. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This
isn’t a statement about my feelings on the gun control issue in the United
States but more my personal hope. We clearly need to keep firearms out of the
hands of people with mental illness who either might injure others without even
knowing it <i>or</i> willfully carry out a
mass shooting like this. Our Senate passed a law to allow <i>just </i>that. Can you even imagine passing a law to allow mentally ill
people to purchase guns? I can’t but then again, that’s what these politicians
do because the National Rifle Association (NRA) funnels tens—maybe hundreds—of millions
of dollars into their re-election campaigns every year. That should be criminal…
but it’s not. Perhaps this gun nut wasn’t clinically diagnosed as mentally
unstable but he clearly was. We’ll probably never know what was going through
the mind of the killer… unless we uncover some writings of his somewhere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We
clearly need harsher penalties for people caught with illegal firearms. We
clearly need to intensify background checks in this country. In my opinion, we
clearly need to federalize the background check system to make it just as tough
to purchase a firearm in Arizona as it is to purchase one in California. We
clearly need to make it just as tough to purchase a firearm from a private
party as it is to purchase it in a gun store. We clearly need to limit the
purchase of a high volume of ammunition or bulk sales of the same. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just
the idea that we should pass a law allowing silencers is ludicrous but it’s
being voted on in congress this week. Just the idea that we have legalized bump
stock devices to increase the speed that bullets can be fired from a
semi-automatic rifle is ludicrous, but the killer in Vegas had two of those
along with as many as 23 guns in his hotel at the time of the shooting with
another 18 at home. How on earth did we allow this to happen? How on earth was
this killer allowed to buy that quantity of guns legally? How about the tens of
thousands of rounds of ammunition he owned? All purchased legally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ll
just say this about being an author of this kind of series. Every time one of
these tragedies happens, I have to stop writing for a few days until I can get
my head back around my story. It’s hard to see the tragedy unfold, staunch my
own tears, and swallow my emotions in order to get myself back into the right
headspace to write about Jarrett and Thayne and their friends who fight these
kind of fanatical gun nuts like the killers in this series. But, here I am. I
can only promise to do my best by these characters for these books. Most of
all, I can only hope that I can continue to engage readers with the stories I
tell of the ATF and FBI in these books and keep them honest. I promise to do my
best.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Love, Patti<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-55372180560477527202017-08-06T07:25:00.004-07:002017-08-06T08:23:34.345-07:00Sunday morning with my friend, Lisa Worrall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am honored to host my friend, Lisa Worrall, today. She has a shiny brand new MM Mystery/thriller and she's here to talk a little bit about how she crafts her amazing stories. Without further ado, welcome, Lisa...<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">First things first, a huge thank you to
the wonderful Patti Logan for hosting me today and letting me ramble on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve known Patti a long time and am a fan
of her writing. Have been from day one. She is responsible for one of my
favourite lines ever, one that still gives me goosebumps…. “his hair fell
around his shoulders like a midnight waterfall.” God, I love that line! We’ve
even written an anthology and a series together, so we know how each other
works—completely differently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Patti is a plotter and I’m a panster.
Don’t get me wrong, I set out to plot every s</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">ingle time, but my mind ends up
whispering, “Put that pen down and let’s just see what happens! It’ll be fun!”
And sometimes it is. Other times it’s like getting blood out of the proverbial
stone. Especially when you find yourself with two MC’s who see their characters
in a slightly different light to yours. You know the kind. Where you say, “Hey,
why don’t we go over here…” and their response is, “Well, yeah, it’d be nice
over there, but what about if we went a few hundred yards to the left so we
could…?” While they don’t come right out and tell you your idea is kaka, you
don’t need to be hit over the head. The most annoying part is that they’re
usually right!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Which is exactly what happened with
Looking for Jesse. It’s been a while since I’ve had a book out there and I gave
it everything I had. It seemed, however, what I had wasn’t enough, because the
moment Nick and Ford crossed paths, they stood behind me, whispering in my ear
to make sure I told their story the way they wanted it. I hope I did. But I’m
still going to get Patti to give me some pointers when it comes to this
plotting business.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are two copies of Looking for Jesse
to giveaway. Please leave a comment and your email address </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "segoe ui emoji" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">😊</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-13676439824651915512017-08-06T07:21:00.002-07:002017-08-06T07:21:45.701-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEomuz-NRkhtQlK9ciWPwoXclFoRvTddeZZX8xIaHjebZ-Fpgdn8bV7QWx-TVVpmu4iTlhr3SdLNBwWQwL8WwCqJSv5w9Wu7sfkbBXumcPtOQeg-HE6PR-1dDdb4110oO_8nMme4UPvDY/s1600/Looking+for+Jesse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1099" data-original-width="732" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEomuz-NRkhtQlK9ciWPwoXclFoRvTddeZZX8xIaHjebZ-Fpgdn8bV7QWx-TVVpmu4iTlhr3SdLNBwWQwL8WwCqJSv5w9Wu7sfkbBXumcPtOQeg-HE6PR-1dDdb4110oO_8nMme4UPvDY/s320/Looking+for+Jesse.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-66174509301735345462017-08-06T07:13:00.002-07:002017-08-06T07:27:43.215-07:00Looking for Jesse by Lisa Worrall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Blurb:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Life is full of decisions and it’s the
split-second ones that change your world forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nick Shepherd made such a decision on the
day his son, Jesse, was taken from a Christmas market in Naperville. The woman
looked normal and had a son of her own, and he was only going to be a minute.
But that minute was all she needed. His son was gone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A year later, the task force is being
downsized and they are no closer to finding Jesse than they were the day he
disappeared. At his wits end, Nick is given a number and a name by the lead on
the case.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ex-detective Frank Ford has issues,
several of them. Two steps shy of a full-blown alcoholic, all he wants is to
bury himself in the bottle. He’s doing a pretty good job of it, too, when Nick
Shepherd asks for his help. Does Ford want to help? No. Is Ford going to help?
Hell no. Until four words resonate deep within him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“She took my son!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Excerpt:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Half an hour later
there were only three people ahead of them and Nick sent a silent prayer of
thanks heavenward. He’d stopped feeling his fingers fifteen minutes ago, and
the sky had begun to darken as evening approached. After Santa, they could take
one more trip around the lot, pick up a few decorations and the quilt Jesse had
spotted for Nick’s mom before heading home. Nick’s stomach rumbled loudly and
he suddenly realized they hadn’t eaten since the giant pretzel’s and hot
chocolate when they first arrived. The Disney Channel and takeout pizza was the
way to go. They were down to two in front when Jesse announced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Aww nuts.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Excuse me?” Nick
stared down at him with a raised eyebrow. Although Jesse didn’t notice because
he was too busy hunting through his pockets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I lost my
mitten!” Jesse looked up at him, one of his multi-colored Christmas mittens
clutched in his fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Aww
crap!</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Anna had bought
him those mittens last year at this very market and Jesse had scoured his
closet last night looking for them. Wearing them today had been important and
Nick got it, he really did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where did you
have them last?” Nick asked, dropping down to his haunches to look his son in
the eye. His stomach rumbled again and Nick had a lightbulb moment. “Were you
wearing them when we had hot chocolate?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes!” Jesse
exclaimed. “But I took them off to hold the cup. Maybe I left it there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay,” Nick said.
“When we’ve seen Santa, we’ll go back and look for it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“But what if someone
takes it while we’re waiting?” Jesse’s voice rose and Nick could hear that
tears were on their way. “We have to go now!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Jay, we’ve been
standing in line for thirty minutes, dude, and Santa’s gonna be closing up shop
soon. If we go now, you’ll miss him.” Nick tried to reason but Jesse was on the
verge of meltdown and people were beginning to stare at them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I… need… my…
mitten!” Jesse wailed, sobs building in his chest and he threw his arms around
Nick’s waist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Double
crap!</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Nick looked at the
woman in front of them with her son, then over at the seating area where they’d
had their hot chocolate and pretzels earlier—then back again. It wasn’t that
far…. If he sprinted, he could get to the wooden tables, check if the mitten
was there and get back before it was their turn. Jesse would be okay just for a
minute—wouldn’t he—of course he wouldn’t he’s only seven—but it’s only for a
minute and there are people everywhere—but—? Nick didn’t have time to finish
the conversation with himself because Jesse wailed again. Tapping the woman in
front of them on the shoulder, Nick made an executive decision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Excuse me,” he
said as she turned around. “My son left his mitten at the seating area over
there but I don’t want him to miss his turn. Would you mind watching him for a
minute while I run over and find it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The woman’s kindly
brown eyes took in Jesse’s tear-soaked face and the length of the line then
smiled. “Of course,” she replied. “But be quick, I think they’re rushing the
kids through so they get in as many as they can before closing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Like there’s fire
coming out of my as—sorry, butt—sorry.” Nick stumbled over the words but she
only laughed and waved her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Go!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thanks,” Nick
said gratefully and quickly hugged Jesse to him. “I’ll be right back, buddy,
okay? You just stand here with this nice lady and I’ll be so quick you won’t
even notice I’ve gone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Jesse looked at
him warily but the woman smiled and said, “He’ll be fine with me and Marcus,
won’t you?” Jesse gave a hesitant nod and Nick hit the ground running.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The mitten Gods
must have been smiling down on him because he found it under the table where
they’d been sitting almost immediately. He heaved a huge sigh of relief and
dashed back to Santa’s Grotto, mitten held high like a victory torch so Jesse
could see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Nick made good on
his promise, he was back in just over a minute, if a little out of breath.
Promising himself he’d tell Daisy to stop bringing in donuts to work, he headed
to the front of the line. He smiled as he slowed his approach, not wanting to
slip on the frozen ground. Nick was surprised to see Jesse still held the
woman’s hand. Although Jesse was an affectionate kid, he was also very cautious
and took a while to warm up to new people. A hand tightened around Nick’s
heart. It had been a long time since Jesse had felt a motherly touch. Even when
they’d sat on the couch watching TV, Jesse’s hand had always been curled around
Anna’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I got it, dude!”
Nick said jubilantly, putting his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “It was right whe—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The words caught in
his throat as the boy turned and so did the woman holding his hand. “Hey!” she
yelled, pulling the boy toward her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m sorry.” Nick
held up his hands. “I thought you were… my….” He spun on his heel, his gaze
flitting all around him. “Jesse!” His name echoed on the cold evening air.
“Jesse! My son? Where’s my son?” Nick grabbed the woman’s forearm and her eyes
widened in horror. “My son!” he repeated. What was wrong with her? Why was she
looking at him like that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hey, man, take it
easy.” That came from a big, bald man a couple of spaces down the line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Nick ignored him
and shook the terrified woman. “My son, he was here. Right here. Where is he?
You must have seen him!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sir, is there a
problem?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Nick looked at the
woman dressed in a short-skirted elf costume and the burly security guard
behind her. He dropped the frightened woman’s arm and ran shaking hands through
his hair. “My son,” he said again. Why was no one listening to him? “He was
right here! Where is he?” He turned back to the dark-haired woman who now
clasped her son to her tightly. “You saw him. You must have. He was with the
other woman and the boy. I just went to find his… his mitten.” Nick waved it
pathetically, the woolen mitten still clutched firmly in his fingers. “I found…
it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“The little blond
boy?” the elf asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes!” Nick tried
not to scream but panic, raw and heavy bubbled deep within him. He tried to
push it down, but he could taste it in the back of his throat. “He was here.
Right here. I was only gone—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“She left.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“She left?” Nick
shook his head. “What do you mean she left?” He grabbed her forearms. <i>Where. Is. My. Son</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The elf turned her
concerned gaze on the security guard, who stepped forward and put a firm hand
on Nick’s shoulder. Spots dotted Nick’s peripheral vision as his brain tried to
force him to accept what she was saying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sh-she said there
was an emergency. That they had to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Go?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I-I thought you
were together,” she stuttered. “Oh, my God. I didn’t know. I thought you were
toge—” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where is my son?”
Nick knew what the answer was going to be, but he had to hear it. “<i>Where is my son!</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sh-she took him.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> ****</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Buy
Links:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074F2TR6B/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1501527100&sr=8-1&keywords=looking+for+jesse+lisa+worrall"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amazon.com</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B074F2TR6B/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1501527100&sr=8-1&keywords=looking+for+jesse+lisa+worrall"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amazon.co.uk</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Author
Bio:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">About
Me<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My home is in Leigh on Sea, a small
seaside town just outside London on the coast of Essex, about ten minutes from
Southend, which boasts the longest pier in the world. I live with my husband
and two ever-growing children, who I let think are the boss of me; along with
two dogs who actually are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As the wonderful Beatrix Potter said,
“There is something delicious about writing the first words of a new story. You
never quite know where they’ll take you.” I know exactly what she means and
hope you’ll join me for the ride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Website:
http://lworrall.blogspot.com/<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook:
Lisa Worrall Author<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter:
Lisa_Worrall<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Email:
lisaworrall69@gmail.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Google+:
Lisa Worrall<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-58934749500358826642017-06-10T09:22:00.001-07:002017-06-10T09:22:03.109-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thunder and Lightning (coming July 2017)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jarrett Evans and Thayne Wolfe have been partnered in
the ATF for nearly two years and their love and commitment to each other has
grown over time. Now faced with one final challenge, the boys are headed to
Arizona to help Thayne’s mom, stumbling headfirst into a brand new case. When a
man is shot on Dot’s sister’s ranch, their informal investigation leads to the
Native American Indian reservation bordering the property.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Juggling tricky tribal politics isn’t something
Jarrett and Thayne are accustomed to but, as with most things in their lives,
nothing is ever uncomplicated. When a surprise sighting shakes Thayne to his
very foundation, they call out for help and their colleagues ride to the rescue
along with a little help from the FBI. The mystery on the reservation only
deepens when they tangle with a couple of locals. Questionable cigarettes at
the Ahtunowhiho Trading Post may be the least of their worries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From the mean streets of Los Angeles to the vast
deserts of Arizona, Thayne and Jarrett once again brave the minefields of bad
guys, bigshots, and a vicious betrayal that kicks them in the ass. But one
thing is certain. Thru thunder and lightning, Jarrett and Thayne are never
alone. They’ll fight for each other down to the last man standing, even if it
costs them their very lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-19855863223777642062017-05-02T22:49:00.000-07:002017-05-02T23:13:09.963-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="background-color: #76a5af;">Update on the Death and Destruction series :)</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Hi everyone. I figured since I am reaching the end of the Death and Destruction series, approaching my 50th release, I should finally start a blog over here on Goodreads. I have to tell you, I'm a really terrible blogger but I'll do my best to keep y'all updated about what's going on in the Patricia Logan book world. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br style="font-family: merriweather, georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">I just put in a cover art request for "Thunder and Lightning" (Death and Destruction Book 6). I will be sharing it on my FB wall as soon as it's ready :)</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br style="font-family: merriweather, georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Meanwhile, here's the blurb: </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br style="font-family: merriweather, georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Jarrett Evans and Thayne Wolfe have been partnered in the ATF for nearly two years and their love and commitment to each other has grown over time. Now faced with one final challenge, the boys are headed to Arizona to help Thayne’s mom, stumbling headfirst into a brand new case. When a man is shot on Dot’s ranch, their informal investigation leads to the Native American reservation bordering the property.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br style="font-family: merriweather, georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Juggling tricky tribal politics isn’t something Jarrett and Thayne are accustomed to but, as with most things in their lives, nothing is ever uncomplicated. When they call out for help, the FBI’s two most capable agents, Lincoln Snow and Mac McCallahan, ride to the rescue along with friends from the ATF. The mystery on the reservation only deepens when they tangle with a couple of local cops who seem to know more than they’ll admit to about questionable cigarettes at the Ahtunowhiho Trading Post.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br style="font-family: merriweather, georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">From the mean streets of Los Angeles to the vast deserts of Arizona, our heroes once again brave the minefield of bad guys, bigshots, and a vicious betrayal that kicks them in the ass. But one thing is certain, thru thunder and lightning, Jarrett and Thayne are never alone. They’ll fight for each other down to the last man standing, even if it costs them their very lives.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br style="font-family: merriweather, georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">There you go. I have already started and expect it to be ready by Late June :)</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #76a5af;"><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: white;"><br style="font-family: merriweather, georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">By the way, I've put the whole series back on KU so if anyone is interested, they're all in there. Thanks so much for reading. Your reviews mean more than I can say. Patti xoxo</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsR6-Aoj2X6YyDr4mIPM6oY6_u-5Z48r2kWDpP12gbBNltvs3OQcbrrQUSzaiDHYQyTnym8XgQnSB2GfsZBEtWAFcAPmNsgb3_xDx9sHIpXp9hx2MAt_omIG5-55euA3r057jji602DWC/s1600/Point-and-shoot-for-Amazon-1400-x-2100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsR6-Aoj2X6YyDr4mIPM6oY6_u-5Z48r2kWDpP12gbBNltvs3OQcbrrQUSzaiDHYQyTnym8XgQnSB2GfsZBEtWAFcAPmNsgb3_xDx9sHIpXp9hx2MAt_omIG5-55euA3r057jji602DWC/s320/Point-and-shoot-for-Amazon-1400-x-2100.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-75930931431628334632016-11-11T08:48:00.000-08:002016-11-11T08:48:08.254-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgC6_-U9_mY85MZ_lNUqxuGe74k1-STETRxhalSqBPM2-_aP9Tsh4DtOg0CR9eMM_3HKYNHM0AHx1LmP1P_uMBhT5YhoEczPzEqJrMZbmTWwYUP3macMlRAIpsBmcI_mOq_AfJG6TqRU1p/s1600/14358879_1080911858661652_7989123035428472995_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgC6_-U9_mY85MZ_lNUqxuGe74k1-STETRxhalSqBPM2-_aP9Tsh4DtOg0CR9eMM_3HKYNHM0AHx1LmP1P_uMBhT5YhoEczPzEqJrMZbmTWwYUP3macMlRAIpsBmcI_mOq_AfJG6TqRU1p/s320/14358879_1080911858661652_7989123035428472995_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thayne è uno stupendo
agente dell’ATF, abilissimo con le armi e duro come l’acciaio. Ha appena
terminato questo incarico in incognito dove ha assistito all’omicidio di Noah,
un dolce e gentile ragazzo che era diventato il suo amante, e ne è uscito distrutto.
Non è per niente pronto a tornare in servizio, a dire il vero. Ho pensato che
mettere insieme due uomini così problematici, ciascuno desideroso di manovrare
l’altro in camera da letto, fosse divertente, e perciò li ho creati in questo
modo. Thayne non è in nessun senso una figura sottomessa, tantomeno
fisicamente: è bellissimo, tosto e ha una famiglia fantastica (Dot, la sua
mamma, e Sarah, la sua migliore amica). Però avevo anche bisogno di
affiancargli un tipo come Jarrett, che ha visto l’inferno.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.3pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Sapevo già di amare Jarrett. Nella mia
mente è sempre stato una figura epica e così, mentre decidevo che tipo di uomo
potesse essere in grado di gestire il mio Marine tosto e torturato, che si
sentiva completamente solo al mondo – senza famiglia, senza amici (eccettuato
Tate e pochi altri) e senza amore –, sapevo che chiunque avrei scelto doveva
essere un maschio alfa di primissimo livello. Ed è così che è nato Thayne
Wolfe, che rappresenta l’opposto di Jarrett in tanti sensi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.3pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Ora, quando un personaggio come Jarrett
salta fuori dalla mia testa per finire nelle pagine di un libro, di solito
diventa il protagonista della storia successiva. Ma, nel suo caso, non riuscivo
a sopportare l’idea di farne il <i>Marine
Bodyguard</i> n° 4 e finirla lì. Lui è uno di quei personaggi simili al mio
Cassidy Ryan di <i>Catene d’Argento</i> e
tutti quelli della serie <i>Master Boys</i>.
Cassidy compare più e più volte nei miei libri e addirittura sconfina in altre
serie, come in <i>The Thief</i> della serie <i>Bodyguard</i>. Jarrett, come Cassidy, è uno
di quei personaggi che si meritano più di 70,000 – 80,000 parole (o 375 pagine,
se preferite) ed è così che è nata la serie <i>Morte
e Distruzione</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.3pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Se avete letto <i>The Brat</i>, sapete già che Jarrett non è un bravo ragazzo. Ha avuto
un sacco di problemi ed è un personaggio molto complesso con una personalità
appena abbozzata (a dir poco). A quel punto era diventato un mercenario, ma
aveva ancora un cuore e un anima; in più, aveva rivelato un gran senso
dell’umorismo oltre a essere sexy da morire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.3pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Ho cominciato a scrivere <i>The Brat</i>, il terzo libro della serie <i>Marine Bodyguards</i>, lo scorso autunno, e
nel corso della scrittura, come spesso accade, la storia ha preso una direzione
che non avevo preventivato. Permettetemi di divagare un momento su questa cosa.
Una volta ero solita buttare giù un abbozzo di ogni scena. Adesso non lo faccio
più. Scrivo una sinossi della serie, poi dei libri (a volte questo consiste nel
solo titolo, da compilare in un secondo momento), infine stilo una lista di
idee per la storia. Comunque, quando in <i>The
Brat</i> Tate Heston viene improvvisamente licenziato dalla sua compagnia (cosa
che non avevo previsto), di colpo mi sono trovata nella necessità di trovargli
un sostituto, e quell’uomo è stato Jarrett Evans; lui sa come aiutare Thayne a
gestire i suoi demoni, perché anche lui ha i propri da tenere a bada.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">E
adesso?”, mi sono detta. Sapevo che la serie su Jarrett e Thayne sarebbe stata
diversa da ogni altra serie che avessi scritto. Volevo scrivere diversi libri
in cui i miei ragazzi si conoscevano, maturavano, s’innamoravano l’uno
dell’altro e avevano un lieto fine. Ma volevo anche scrivere delle belle storie
– ciascuna con un tocco di thriller – che avessero però anche un alone di
mistero irrisolto che non avrei dissipato finché non avessi scritto l’ultimo
libro. Non sapevo allora, e non lo so neanche oggi, quanti libri ci vorranno
prima che questo accada. Mi piace molto scrivere queste storie, e anche se ogni
libro è lungo più di 100,000 parole (oltre 400 pagine l’uno), mi sto proprio
divertendo un mondo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.3pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">L’ATF è stata la mia fonte di ispirazione
per questi libri, e che io sappia non sono mai stati scritti romance m/m con
protagonisti degli agenti dell’ATF. Ma potrei sbagliarmi. Quando ho cominciato
a fare ricerche sull’ATF per farmi un’idea più precisa del tipo di storie che
avrei dovuto scrivere, ho scoperto che questi uomini e queste donne fanno molto
più che bloccare semplicemente i traffici illeciti di armi. Sono di competenza
dell’agenzia il controllo di alcolici, tabacco, armi da fuoco, esplosivi
(compresi fuochi d’artificio, valanghe, air bag, razzi fatti in casa per
appassionati) e molto altro ancora. Ovunque avvengano questi eventi, le forze
dell’ATF sono autorizzate a intervenire e applicare la legge, e questo mi ha
aperto un mondo intero di storie possibili. L’ho trovato talmente eccitante che
ho cominciato subito a buttare giù alcune idee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Jarrett e le sue buffonate rendono
divertente la lettura. Dopo che il primo libro, <i>Morte e Distruzione</i>, è stato completato, ho deciso di inserire dopo
il finale il prologo del libro successivo ed è così che è nata la scena
iniziale di <i>Fuochi d’Artificio</i>, in
cui vediamo Jarrett saltare giù da un edificio servendosi di un sospetto come
contrappeso. Volevo che Jarrett fosse un personaggio epico sin dall’inizio
delle sue avventure insieme a Thayne, e così è. Se i miei lettori mi vedessero
mentre escogito le peripezie di Jarrett, penserebbero che sono matta: me ne sto
lì seduta a ridacchiare da sola mentre le mie dita volano sulla tastiera, dando
vita a un’altra delle sue gesta pazzesche.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.3pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Uno dei motivi per cui questi libri
richiedono diverso tempo per essere scritti è il lavoro di ricerca necessario
per ognuno. Nelle prossime newsletter vi racconterò cosa succede nel mentre e
cosa mi è d’aiuto, ma per ora questo testo è già venuto abbastanza lungo e sarà
meglio che mi fermi finché siete ancora svegli. Ahah!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 35.3pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="IT" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 106%;">Ci risentiamo la prossima volta. A coloro
che vivono negli States, faccio tanti auguri per il Giorno del Ringraziamento;
a coloro che vivono all’estero, passate un felice autunno. Tornerò presto con
una nuova newsletter. E anche con alcuni estratti da <i>Locked and Loaded</i>, il 4° libro della serie che è già in fase di
scrittura. Grazie per esservi iscritti e, se avete amici ai quali piacciono i
libri, per favore indirizzateli al sito web così potranno iscriversi alla
newsletter anche loro. xoxo</span><span lang="IT"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-20013759365168583972016-10-28T12:03:00.001-07:002016-10-28T12:03:30.129-07:00Introducing: Cup O'Jarrett<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Welcome to my new blogging project called “Cup O’Jarrett”.
For those of you who follow my writing, you’ll recognize Jarrett as one of a
pair of ATF agents from my Death and Destruction series. I am currently writing
book 4, “Locked and Loaded” which I hope to have out by the end of the year but
by mid-January 2017 at the latest. <o:p></o:p></div>
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2016 has gone quickly for me. I’ve released several
books but have been concentrating on the D&D series since I began writing
these two hot men back in February. I have gotten caught up in their adventures
to the point where I can’t stop writing them. With nearly 100 reviews on the 3
books I’ve released so far, I think my readers appreciate the road I’ve taken.
These two are so easy and fun to write, I think they’ll be around for a while.
I don’t see any end to the series as long as the stories keep coming so please
stick with me if you are enjoying them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ll be giving you folks an update on my progress every
now and then on the weekly blog and I also intend on doing a monthly
newsletter. My friend Jeff Adkins has been working to set up an email delivery
from all the folks who’ve signed up as a “Loganite” on my website. If you’d
like to get on the monthly newsletter list, please run over to: <a href="http://authorpatricialogan.com/index.php/component/users/?view=registration">http://authorpatricialogan.com/index.php/component/users/?view=registration</a>
and become a Loganite. I look forward to being able to share special excerpts
and back stories exclusive to my friends over there. Thank you so much. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The first newsletter will have a behind the scenes
look at the research tools I’ve been using for these stories. It’s a lot of
work but really fun and I thought you might like to see where I get my information
because, trust me, not all of it is fiction <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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So, without further ado, I leave you with a little
excerpt from “Locked and Loaded” (Death and Destruction series Book 4)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; text-indent: .5in;">
“Agents, I think you both know
Agent Adael Dayan,” SAC Stanger said. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; text-indent: .5in;">
Adael Dayan was Israeli Mossad
and had worked a sensitive overseas mission with Jarrett right before Jarrett’s
service with the Marine Corps had been up. In fact, that last mission had gone
wrong in several ways and had resulted in Jarrett making the decision to
finally quit the Corps and leave his career behind. Jarrett and Adael had gone
their separate ways as well but not without having to cut ties that were deeper
than simply two spies working together. He glanced at Thayne. His lover was
eyeballing Adael with an expression of deep concern. It was obvious to Jarrett
that Thayne didn’t appreciate the introduction of a man he knew had once been
Jarrett’s lover. They’d met while working the fireworks case this past summer. He
and Thayne both stood as Adael entered. Dayan smiled broadly and walked into
the room. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Jarrett!” he said. He opened
both arms and before Jarrett could even back up, Adael had pulled him into a
hug. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around Adael and hug him back. He
watched Thayne over his shoulder. He looked pissed as hell. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-pagination: widow-orphan; text-indent: .5in;">
“Dayan. This is a surprise.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Adael let go and stepped back
before turning to Thayne. To Jarrett’s shock, he swept Thayne into a hug as
well. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“It’s good to see you too,
Thayne,” Adael added.<o:p></o:p></div>
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His partner flailed for a few
seconds and then reluctantly hugged Adael back as he sent Jarrett a puzzled
expression. Jarrett threw him a tiny smile as Adael finally let go. He grabbed
Thayne’s biceps, holding him at arm’s length as he grinned widely. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“It’s so good to see you
both,” he said, looking between Thayne and Jarrett. When he finally dropped his
hands and turned to hold out a hand to Stanger, Jarrett breathed a sigh of
relief. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“You too, Dayan. What are you
doing here?” Jarrett asked as Stanger shook Adael’s hand and then waved the
three of them into chairs. Adael walked over to the wall and grabbed a vacant
chair, dragging it over to join Jarrett and Thayne’s in front of Stanger’s
desk. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“SAC Stanger and the ATF asked
me here to help out with getting you an introduction to Mills Lang,” Adael
answered simply. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Jarrett snorted. “And just how
are ya gonna do that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“As I started to say, Evans,
Agent Dayan is going to get you an introduction to Mills Lang’s new crew as an
Iranian buyer,” Stanger continued. “Agent Dayan has been working on an
operation which has been going on inside Lang’s organization for months now and
at risk of making a pun, when he rolled out the big guns, Dayan here knew we’d
be interested in seeing what was going on. He brought it to Homeland and they
brought it to us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Links to “Slip and Slide”
Available Now…<o:p></o:p></div>
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Amazon: <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Slip-Slide-Death-Destruction-Book-ebook/dp/B01MA6IYBW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1477680815&sr=8-1&keywords=Slip+and+slide+logan">https://www.amazon.com/Slip-Slide-Death-Destruction-Book-ebook/dp/B01MA6IYBW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1477680815&sr=8-1&keywords=Slip+and+slide+logan</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; mso-hyphenate: auto; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;">
Allromance eBooks:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-slipandslide-2156508-356.html">https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-slipandslide-2156508-356.html</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Nook:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/slip-and-slide-patricia-logan/1124934209?ean=2940153792538">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/slip-and-slide-patricia-logan/1124934209?ean=2940153792538</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Smashwords:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/673654">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/673654</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-86533690393636560792016-01-12T16:50:00.003-08:002016-01-12T16:50:56.652-08:00Vesper Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some of you may have read my erotic MM Romance Master's Boys Stories. In book 3, "Kaden", we meet Zachary Teak's newest secretary, Vesper. I decided about a year ago to write Vesper's story down as a series of free shorts and post them on my blog. This is the first installment called "Dinner with Frankie". Please check back to read more of Vesper's stories each month and thank you for tuning in :)<br />
<br />
<b>DINNER WITH FRANKIE</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper’s Story<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper Cosgrove stared
into the mirror, leaning forward as she put the final touches on her scarlet red
lip stick. Frank Ciarello, her beau, would be at her office to pick her up very
shortly. She was so excited to have her own man, if she could honestly call
Frank her man. The very thought of it had butterflies swarming in her tummy.
The Italian American pastry chef was a handsome man, standing about five foot
ten inches tall, with coarse, curly, salt and pepper hair. Vesper towered over
the man, at six feet five inches tall. Of course, Vesper’s plumbing was still
male, but as she examined her face in the mirror for any trace of stubble, she
was pleased that the electrolysis that she had painstakingly endured had done
its job and the months of treatments had resulted in a hairless jaw. The
hormone therapy that she had been on for over five years had resulted in nicely
shaped breasts and a higher voice than she’d had as Lester Cosgrove, the name
she’d been born with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper had lived as a
woman for the last five years though she’d emotionally identified as a woman
for most of her life, deeply hidden and trying to find her way in a homophobic
world. Back in the day, there was no such thing as transgender. It took the
notoriety of the brave Billy Jean King and her homophobic rival, Bobby Riggs, that
eventually brought the words <i>transgender and transsexual</i> to the
1970’s dinner table. Yeah, right… not in Lester’s conservative home. The word
‘gay’ was a slur to be thrown around by her homophobic dad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Once her father had passed
away, Lester had come out to mom, trying to explain who she was yet, her mother
was one of those 1950’s Ozzie and Harriet moms who was left clueless by her
husband and his aerospace career, which was thought to be so exotic by the
whole family. Lester’s little brother Scott, the only sibling, hadn’t wanted to
understand and had distanced himself from Les since then. Vesper’d decided at
age thirty, that she was finally going to leave the male persona behind and
become completely female. Five years into her transformation, her wardrobe was
strictly female, though finding ladies shoes to fit her size thirteen feet was
always a bit of a challenge. She looked into the mirror one last time and
picked up a small rectangular box. Opening it, she picked up a Q-Tip and
selected a tiny black heart shaped beauty mark and lifted it to her upper lip.
She dabbed it onto her skin and smiled as the final touch to her makeup was
applied. Satisfied that she looked as good as she ever would, she closed the
box and stood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper glanced at the
clock which was hanging on the wall of her office and noted that she had only a
few more minutes before Frank would arrive. Once again, excitement pounded
through her veins as she thought about the man she was going to meet. Vesper
still found it hard to believe she was about to go out on her first date as a
woman. She shied away from men who gave her notice. Her stature and the size of
her hands as well as her still somewhat masculine facial features, generally
made her the object of ridicule. Someday she hoped to be able to afford plastic
surgery which would soften her jaw and brow line, finishing her transformation
once the gender reassignment had been completed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper thought back over
the last year and how far she’d come. The economy was terrible and when Bertha
Meadows, the elderly lady that she’d been a companion to, passed away, Vesper
had no income and nowhere to live. She’d lived with Bertha for almost twelve
years, seeing that she ate nutritional meals, taking her to her doctor’s visits,
and doing all of the cooking, shopping, and general house cleaning. In the end,
Vesper had taken great care to make sure that Bertha’s passage into the next
world was as comfortable as possible, decorating her sick room with fresh cut
flowers, and playing soft music for her. She bathed her and dressed her and
always made sure that she got an hour’s worth of sunshine every morning,
rolling her wheelchair onto the back patio and reading to her. When Bertha’s
son offered to let Vesper stay at the house in exchange for a reasonable rent,
Vesper counted herself blessed. Securing an income would be her next priority.
Grieving from her companion’s death, Vesper was reeling and terrified for her
future before answering an advertisement for a receptionist at a gay sex club
called DOMZ.com. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper had always been
painfully shy and mortified by a terrible speech impediment that she’d suffered
since her father had verbally abused her almost since birth. When she walked
into her boss’s office and Zack Teak had hired her on the spot, her joy almost
couldn’t be contained. From that moment forward, Vesper made it her goal in
life to please everyone that she worked with. She often prepared little treats
at home to bring to work and share with the Doms and submissives that walked
the halls of the online BDSM sex club. She made sure that Mr. Teak had his
favorite coffee prepared just the way he liked it every morning. She cut up
little Danishes in geometric shapes and served them to her boss on her own bone
china plates with lacy paper doilies underneath. Mr. Teak seemed appreciative
with her work but one day, he called her into the office to tell her in the
kindest way possible, that her speech impediment was hurting his business. He’d
been getting complaints from the submissive members of his online website, that
when they called in to book appointments with one of the in-house Doms, they
couldn’t understand her. He’d told Vesper that he had to make a change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper remembered the
chill that passed through her at the thought of being out on the street,
homeless. It was not a pleasant thought and it terrified her. Then, miracle of
miracles, Mr. Teak had looked across the desk, his brow furrowed with sadness,
and come up with an alternative. When he offered her the job of concierge,
Vesper had nearly flown across his desk and kissed him right on the mouth.
Though no position of concierge had been filled at DOMZ.com before, Mr. Teak
had assured her that she could make the position what she would and left the
job description quite loose. Vesper had taken the reins and decided that it
would be her responsibility, as it always had in the past, to take care of
people. After all, it was what she did best. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vesper was on pins and
needles when her cell rang.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hello?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hello, Magpie. I’m out
in the reception area and there’s no one here to let me back,” Frank said.
After six, when Logan went home, the submissives who had appointments were
shown back by Frederick, the nighttime security man at DOMZ.com. The overnight
webmaster worked from home. It was strange to Vesper that Frederick wasn’t at
his post. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, thath thrange.
Frederick thould be there,” she said. “I’ll be out in jutht a minute, Frank.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay, Magpie. I’ll be
waiting impatiently.” She smiled and hung up. She was very excited about their
date. She really liked Frank a great deal. She took one last look in the full
length mirror and picked up her handbag, letting herself out of her office. She
nearly ran into Mr. Teak and Frederick who were walking down the corridor,
speaking to each other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, there you are,
Frederick. Hello, Mithter Teak,” she said to her boss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Were you looking for me,
Vesper?” Frederick asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, no, my date ith
here. He jutht called from retheption,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Did you say your date,
Vesper?” Mr. Teak asked. Vesper smiled, shyly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, yeth. Would you
like to meet him?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“But of course,” Mr. Teak
said. He looked very intrigued. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, thith way, then,”
she said with a grin. They walked out into the reception area and Frank stood
next to the reception desk holding a clear plastic box with a wrist corsage.
Her heart fluttered for a moment when she saw the loving expression in his eye.
He smiled at her and stepped forward, looking so handsome in his three piece
suit. He stretched up on tiptoe and she leaned down so that he could peck her
on the cheek. She must have been seven or so inches taller than he was. She
turned to Mr. Teak and Frederick who stood behind her, smiling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mithter Teak, I’d like
you to meet Frank Thiarello, my date. Frank thith ith my bothe and thith ith
Frederick our thecurity guard,” she said. Frank smiled and shook their hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nice to meet you, both.
Vesper talks about DOMZ.com like it is her family,” Frank said in his thick
Brooklyn accent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You too,” Zack replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Frank ith the baker who
made Ivan and Wadeth wedding cake,” Vesper said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, so that’s how you
met,” Zack said. “Well, it was both a beautiful and a delicious cake,” he
added. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thank you but the best
thing that ever came out of that job is my little Magpie,” Frank said. Vesper
blushed. “Come on, honey. I made dinner reservations; nice meeting you both,”
Frank said. He took Vesper’s hand, and she wiggled her fingers at Mr. Teak and
Frederick and walked out of the room. Before the door closed, Vesper heard the
muted conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, that’s something
you don’t see every day,” Frederick said. Zack laughed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Looks like love is in
the air,” Zack said happily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frank took Vesper’s hand
and wrapped it around his arm before pushing open the exit door to DOMZ.com.
Vesper had told him that she had shared a small bungalow in Glendale with a
long term elderly companion who had recently passed but since it was their
first date, he hadn’t wanted to ask for her address and instead had insisted on
picking her up from the office where he knew she felt safe. Though she was a
big woman, the vulnerability that she exuded was surprisingly sweet. She looked
to be about thirty but he expected that she may be a little older than that but
he didn’t care. Her innocence was one of the things that had attracted him to
her in the first place. There was something special about his Vesper that was
very special and getting to know her better was going to become his top
priority. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tonight, Vesper was
dressed in that pretty 1950’s style dress and platinum blonde wig that he loved
so much. He remembered his own mother and his aunts dressing the same style when
he’d been just a boy. He noticed the small things about her that reminded him
of the ladies in his vast Italian family… the way she put on white gloves, the
way she giggled when he’d put the wrist corsage on her, and the way her big
blue eyes glittered when she smiled shyly afterward, batting her long false
eyelashes. He’d thought she was just lovely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I had planned on taking
us to my favorite restaurant and then catching the late showing of the movie if
that’s okay with you, Magpie?” he asked, as they walked toward his vehicle. She
looked over and down at him, a small satisfied smile playing upon her pretty lips.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of courth, Frank, that
thoundth wonderful,” she lisped. Many men may have been put off by her speech
patterns but Frank had been charmed by it from the moment he’d heard her sweet
voice over the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Good. It’s hard ta find
good Italian food in this town, but Evangelina’s is my favorite.” They walked
up to his classic 1964 Chevy Cavalier and he immediately went to the passenger
side, putting his key into the lock and turning it, opening the long door on
the shiny yellow and white car. She slid inside onto the white leather seats
and then he closed the door, walking around to the driver’s side, and climbing
in. Vesper sat daintily on the long bench seat, which he’d pushed back to allow
her long legs to fit. She grinned over at him, flashing straight white teeth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thith ith quite a car,
Frank,” she said, reaching out to admire the dash with a gloved hand. He was
quite proud of the classic car which had been parked in his father’s garage for
almost forty years before Frank decided to move out to California and expand
his very busy cake and pastry shop to the west coast. He started up the
powerful motor and grabbed the wide white wheel, backing out of the parking
space. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, thanks, hon. This
usta be my dad’s ride. I was the only boy, surrounded by six sisters, so my
pops willed the car to me,” he said, hearing the Brooklyn boy accent coming
through. You could take the boy out of Brooklyn but not the Brooklyn out of the
boy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, ith lovely.” Frank
watched as Vesper continued to look around the car, seemingly admiring all of
the fine details that he kept in pristine condition. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“So, you like Italian
food, Magpie?” Frank asked, beginning to feel the butterflies for the first
time. He wanted to make a good impression so badly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I love Italian,
Frankie,” she said and then she giggled, probably realizing that the answer had
more than one meaning. He grinned at her before turning his attention back out
through the wide windshield as he drove down Santa Monica Boulevard. He liked
the nickname she’d used for him. His mother and numerous aunts and uncles had
all called him Frankie. It made him feel like he was at home. He stopped at a
light and looked over at her. She held her white patent leather purse in her
lap and covered it with her large hands. The fact that Vesper was taller and
broader than Frank really didn’t bother him a whole lot. He was comfortable in
his own skin, and after one marriage failed disastrously, Frank was anxious to
find a companion. He and his ex wife had split up nearly ten years before, and
he had buried himself in his business, leaving little time for any kind of
social life. He was just smacked on the side of the head when he’d met Vesper
and for the first time in a long time, he was anxious to dive into the dating
pool again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The place Frank was
taking Vesper wasn’t too far away and he was anxious to sit down and talk with
her over a glass of their best Chianti and bread sticks. They drove in comfortable
silence for a few minutes until he spotted Evangenlina’s and he turned into the
drive. A valet rushed up to the car and Frank got out, taking a ticket from him
before walking around to the passenger side, where Vesper was being helped out
by a second valet. As soon as she stood, Frank was there, grinning like a loon
as he took her hand and led her to the front of the restaurant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, thith thmellth
wonderful, Frank,” Vesper said as the scent of delicious garlic, roasting
peppers, and marinara gravy hit his nostrils. The Maître’d stepped up to them,
dressed sharply in his black tuxedo, holding two thick menus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Good evening, Sir, Miss.
Do you have reservations?” he inquired with a goateed smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, Frank Chiarello at
seven-thirty,” Frank answered as the waiter nodded, stepping up to a podium
before making a note on the chart there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Very good, Sir, this
way,” he said, turning and leading them through the dark restaurant. The deeper
they got into the dark place, the better it smelled, and Frank found his
stomach rumbling as they were led to a booth shaped in a half moon, near the
back of the restaurant. A red jar candle sat on top of the table, providing
just the right traditional Italian restaurant atmosphere and Frank took
Vesper’s hand as he helped her to take her seat before walking around and
taking his own across from her as a waiter arrived with menus and a basket of
bread. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“This is William,” the
Maître’d said, introducing the waiter. “He will be serving you this evening.”
Frank was thrilled with how elegant the service was and proud that they were so
solicitous in front of his pretty date. The waiter handed menus to them both
and took their order of a fine Chianti which Frank selected off of their wine
list before departing. He looked across the table. In the muted light, his
Magpie looked beautiful, her eyes twinkling the way that they had from the
first time he’d met her. She smiled shyly back at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“The atmothphere in here
ith tho wonderful, Frank,” she said, reaching one gloved hand across the table
to him. He grasped it, loving the feel of the smooth white fabric and catching
a whiff of the corsage on her wrist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh, I am so glad ya like
it, Magpie. I wanted ta make a good impression on youz,” he confessed, feeling
somewhat self conscious because her speech, though interesting in its pattern,
didn’t sound like some Guido right off the Jersey Shore. He looked down at
their hands, still clasped across the table. “I… I hope ya don’t think of me as
just some schmuck from Brooklyn. It’s hard tryin to make an impression on a
real lady,” he confessed. He glanced up when she squeezed his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Frank, can I tell you a
thory?” Vesper asked. He brightened a bit, looking into her compassionate eyes.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of course, Magpie,” he
said and then he noticed the waiter coming back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Are you ready to order,
Sir, Miss?” William asked. Frank hadn’t even cracked open the menu but he knew
what he wanted. He looked across the table at Vesper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Magpie, can I order for
both of us?” he asked. She vigorously nodded, closing her menu and handing it
off to William, the waiter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of courth, Frankie,” she
said and he smiled, handing the menu to the waiter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Great, well, let’s see,
start us off with a Caesar salad, oysters Florentine, and then the veal with
bacon wrapped scallops and angel hair pasta with the basil marinara,” he
recited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Very good selections,
Sir,” William said and then closing his pad, he left them alone. Frank watched
as Vesper removed her gloves, setting them aside, before picking up a piece of
the rosemary bread and swirling it into the olive oil that William had poured
for them while Frank ordered. She put the fragrant piece of bread into her
mouth and sighed with what could only be joy. Frank tore a piece off for
himself and repeated the action, slightly embarrassed by how clunky he must
appear to such a delicate creature. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Please, Magpie, you said
you had a story,” he ventured. She smiled shyly and his gaze was drawn to her
perfect lips. She was enchanting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thith thory ith of a
little boy who wath born to a middle clath family in the theventieth. He
alwayth felt out of plathe. Hith father wath a homophobe and he boathted about
it openly every night at the dinner table. The little boy knew he wath
different from otherth from an early age. He worthiped Dolly Parton and
whenever he could, he would thneak into hith motherth bedroom and try on her
clotheth and heelth. One day, he got into her makeup. He put on a fathe that he
knew he wanted to wear every day for the retht of hith life.” Vesper stopped
and her eyes glittered as she looked over at him. He suddenly knew just how
important this moment was and exactly where this was going. He was falling for
this woman and falling hard. He knew at that moment that she was one of the
most courageous people he had ever met. He smiled at her and reached back
across the table reaching for her ungloved hand. Her nails were painted bright
red and she was soft and beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Magpie, I understand.
Nothing youz said changes anything about the way I feel about ya. I think youz
are the bravest most beautiful person that I’ve ever met and I want you ta
know, we’ll take this just the way youz wants it,” he replied, putting as much
of his heart into the words that he could. He wouldn’t trade this woman for any
other woman in the world. He watched her eyes become shiny and she dropped her
gaze, looking down at their joined fingers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Thank you, Frankie. I
hope I never dithappoint you,” she said, her voice becoming thick. She chanced
a glance up and he cocked his head and smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“No chancha that, baby.
No chancha that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The End<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-73198559014424340532015-11-09T23:05:00.000-08:002015-11-09T23:05:07.357-08:00A cover, a blurb, and an excerpt from "Say My Name" Coming soon!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzolODGz7f3eD8iM-Uck8i6-DQ4yrifW7TXaDZecbiVbymijRC25w4yspLhXEt9EJVq71CwJYNVRjZ3ijsWP2hDSQ-8_PFzC7D01szt0IUkDyOPuWFnRas7P8ClC8r-MvK1owNAKrPqvm/s1600/Say+My+Name+Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzolODGz7f3eD8iM-Uck8i6-DQ4yrifW7TXaDZecbiVbymijRC25w4yspLhXEt9EJVq71CwJYNVRjZ3ijsWP2hDSQ-8_PFzC7D01szt0IUkDyOPuWFnRas7P8ClC8r-MvK1owNAKrPqvm/s320/Say+My+Name+Final.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Dawson Thomas is a rent boy, a young man who goes out
hoping to impress a man who’ll pay him to be a submissive for a kinky night
together. One night he accompanies a friend to a BDSM club in New York. Raw
Hide is a place where men gather to live out their fantasies and Dawson can’t
believe his good luck when the owner invites him upstairs to be paid for a
night of kink. When others whisper that the man is hideously deformed, calling
him “The Monster”, Dawson remembers the cost of his tuition and puts aside his
fears, accompanying the bodyguard to the man’s apartment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Each night, Cole Chambliss paces in his rooms above
Raw Hide, watching beautiful submissives give themselves to their Doms, just a
few steps down the stairs. Cole longs for days past when he could go out in
public… when no one would stare at him in horror. After paying a bitter price
when fighting for his country, Cole knows his days of walking among whole men
are gone forever... that is until one night he takes a risk that terrifies him.
The stunning submissive who’s caught his eye is something extraordinary and
Cole decides he must chance everything for one last shot at happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> One dark night, one desperate risk, and one horrifying
request later, Cole hears the words he’s feared since his return from the war. “Say
my name, Sir… please just… say my name…” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-91026425362504526392015-11-09T22:50:00.002-08:002015-11-09T23:01:23.959-08:00Excerpt from "Say my Name" Coming soon...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cole waited in his room and at the appointed time,
Bull knocked on the door. He glanced at his watch and noted it was midnight,
right on the nose. He walked to the door and opened it to find Dawson waiting
with his large friend, naked and blindfolded as he’d instructed. Cole nodded
his thanks to Bull and reached out, taking the boy’s hand and drawing him into
the room before closing the door. He knew his bodyguard would stay outside
guarding the door against intrusion for as long as he kept the boy inside.
Dawson stood expectantly, just inside the door to his living room as he waited
for Cole to do what he wanted with him. Cole had planned what he wanted to do
with the boy and it would take place in his playroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“H-hello, Master,” Dawson began. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cole had the feeling the boy wanted to talk with him
but there was no way he was going to carry on a conversation with him. He
didn’t do that with anyone any more. Even his exchanges with Bull, the only man
he did speak to, were short and to the point. His days of long conversations
were over. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come,” he rasped. Cole took Dawson by the hand and
pulled him down the hallway to the playroom where he had everything laid out
for the scene he’d so thoughtfully concocted. He was going to test the boy’s
mettle tonight and had every intention of pushing him hard. Cole wanted to find
out whether the boy was actually attracted to the pain or more comfortable with
the bondage and control. Some submissives wanted it all and there was almost
always bondage with the pain. It gave a submissive a feeling of security to be
tied or bound in some fashion, while pain was applied. All submissives wanted
to give up control but not all were pain sluts. Some wanted it hard and would
take anything a Dom wanted to dish out, to the point where they’d allow
themselves to be beaten into unconsciousness before uttering a safeword. That
was not what Cole wanted and though he’d participated in painful percussion
play and very hard scenes many times, it was not his preference unless the
submissive required it. Tonight he intended on finding out just how far he
could push the young twink submissive before he gave in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-83104817094340446112015-11-06T09:59:00.002-08:002015-11-06T09:59:30.295-08:00Talking self-publishing today on Books and More<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVcbzF8INvzHytMoDBR70xrsIfjhWcPpR1BFr5ZUikyrh2aLG4lNIizqcQN5AaB1LfKiPsAga3l-kacRy_O_1IZEdFxsDl5FRRY5jcQQh-vkPciP8FZsavsmhiMtxfgMJIWyrzfH7bNXW3/s1600/12187855_10205798173933422_3702797702197151287_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVcbzF8INvzHytMoDBR70xrsIfjhWcPpR1BFr5ZUikyrh2aLG4lNIizqcQN5AaB1LfKiPsAga3l-kacRy_O_1IZEdFxsDl5FRRY5jcQQh-vkPciP8FZsavsmhiMtxfgMJIWyrzfH7bNXW3/s320/12187855_10205798173933422_3702797702197151287_n.jpg" width="286" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-80455175181743983082015-11-06T09:58:00.001-08:002015-11-06T18:42:31.081-08:00Self-Publishing- My Step by step guide for authors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Self-Publishing-
MY step by step guide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Good day, everyone! I hope you’re all ready for the
weekend. I know I sure am. It’s not been a terribly productive week. I keep
looking at the calendar and thinking I should be further along on this MS than
I am in order to meet my own publishing deadline for “The Brat”, the book I’m
working on right now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As a self-publisher of over 40 books, I have found
that the only way I get paid on a regular basis, is if I keep to a strict
release schedule. This means writing one book after another and getting them
edited, formatted, cover art(ed)… lol, and doing it all on a tight deadline
without sacrificing quality. My readers demand that I do this so they will have
something of mine to read. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t get me wrong. I adore what I do for a living and
I feel immensely blessed to be able to be able to do it. Writing was never a
dream job for me as it is for so many authors, but once I began doing it, it
became a passion and when I discovered others appreciated what I did and
actually started giving me feedback about my stories, I was convinced that
there wasn’t anything I’d rather put in the effort and time that writing takes to create.
Being an author and being known for a quality product became my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Being a self-publisher is a little different than
working with a publishing house. I’ve done both successfully but here I am
self-publishing, so you can guess which I prefer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve always been decent at running my own business and
most people in my life will tell you that my personality requires me to help
run their business/life whether they like it or not. First of all, I started
off working pretty young. My wonderful parents instilled in me the best work
ethic on the planet… Work hard and make yourself satisfied with your work, or
don’t work at all. Oh, yeah, that last part wasn’t an option. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My parents both worked and they made me proud when I
saw how hard it was for them sometimes. My mom went back to work after my
brother was born and would come home exhausted only to have to take care of the
rest of us. I learned how to cook in my early teens to help out my mom but she
still did a hell of a lot of work in the home. This was a good lesson for me to
learn because I found myself doing this a mere ten years later when I started
my own family and had to work full-time. Publishing is much like this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Though I began writing books after I finished up
working outside the house, I still had a family and a house to run. My husband
and kids still appreciated food on the table when they got home from work and
school no matter how much my characters were screaming at me to write their
love scenes. Sometimes I had to leave them on the page mid-coitis just to cook
dinner. I’m sure they didn’t appreciate that one little bit! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These days when I self-publish, I follow a pretty
simple formula which has worked for me like clockwork so far:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Plot out my book in my head</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-
This is the stage which usually occurs in the shower or at the sink when my
hands are wet and never in front of my computer when I can actually sit down
and write my thoughts. (of course it does)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Scratch out a synopsis</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-
Preferably this has a beginning, middle, and an ending which will make me and
my readers happy with it once I actually present the finished book to them. It
also contains details (in an unorganized fashion) that may or may not ever make
it into the finished book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Order my cover art</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-
For me, this comes before the story is written. I have my concept down, I know
who my main characters are and what they look like, and I have at least a major
part of their story in my head. I like my covers before I write the story
because if the models are good, I refer back to their images often while I
write my book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Write my outline</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-
I’m a plotter and a planner, not a panster. I definitely need the bones and
structure a well-written outline provides. Because I write books with at least
an element of mystery and always with bad guys, I need to know what’s going to
happen before it does. I need to have some guideline to follow. I learned this
running my own business. If you don’t have structure, the whole thing is going
to crumble… plus, I’m just plain OCD to the max. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sit down and write my book</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-
Obviously, this part takes the longest and for me, it requires that I set a strict
writing schedule to complete it by a particular release date. I try to write a
minimum of 2,000 words a day. If I don’t do this, meeting a deadline on time is
very difficult because I give myself about two months in between releases,
sometimes less. I have cranked out a book a month, but that takes extraordinary
creative juices and let’s face it, we can’t all be “ON” all the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deliver it to my editor</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-
I adore my editor but she does keep me on my toes. I give her about two days
for every 10,000 words of my story for first round edits. This means, if I
don’t give her two whole weeks with a novel-length book, she gets cranky. I get
it. She explained it very well one time. She said, (paraphrasing) “Look, like
you, if I read over the manuscript and try to find mistakes and rush… I’m going
to miss some. Being an editor means that I have to NOT become comfortable with
your style and flow… which I do when I read more than 10,000 words at a time. I
need to take a fresh look after 10K the next day, or I will become “USED” to
your style and miss stuff the same way you do when you proof your own MS.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After the first round of edits, we do
one more. She finds additional stuff she missed her first time around. Then…
when I get back her final, I give it one more word-by-word proofing that takes
two more days for a long book. Though I adore my editor, and she makes every
conscious effort to catch all my boo boos, I admit, during this last stage, I
usually find a few more typos. I’ve found as many as 8 on a very long book but
I blame myself for those because (A) I made them and didn’t catch them to begin
with and (B) I rushed her in this case… just like she told me not to. This part
of my to-do list is the longest because in my opinion, editing is the most
crucial part of the book. Let’s face it, any author worth their salt can write
a book. It’s the editor who polishes the rock into a diamond (or the closest
thing I have written to a diamond thus far </span><span style="font-family: "wingdings"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">7.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Send my completed baby to my
formatter</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">- I have to say, my formatter is a cranky guy. He’s
gonna kill me for saying that but he has figuratively slapped my hand more than
once. (Say in your most whiny voice) “Don’t double space between paragraphs.”
“Don’t hit the space bar twice after a period in a sentence.” “Don’t add stupid
little squigglys to your chapters. Smashwords hates that!”… I think you get my
drift. He’s cranky but he’s taught me a lot about what he goes through to make
my MS look pretty so I try to make him happy with me. Oh… he hates crushing
deadlines too. (Hee Hee- apparently, I’m a failure at my own time table because
I seem to demand “Rushes” from everyone.) I chalk that up to an attitude of
“Okay, I’m done and now you should be… RIGHT NOW!” “Are you done yet? Are you
done yet? Are you done yet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Inevitably someone, usually my
conscience, yells… “Shut the eff up!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">8.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Finally, we publish</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-
This takes even MORE patience, something I’m usually short on. I always put up
my book on Amazon first. This bookseller is the worst when it comes to checking
my MS for flaws, typos, etc. They also run software to detect unacceptable key
words and phrases that will raise a red flag to whether they should publish my
book or not. An example of this for a book in the “Romance” category would be
the word Incest. In a self-help or psychology text, Incest is probably
perfectly acceptable to Amazon and it wouldn’t be flagged but in the “Romance”
or “Erotica” category, this is a big no-no and Amazon will (and has) refused to
publish it. This is probably why they run a finished book through such a strict
review process but they are most definitely worse than most. Smashwords, for
example, takes anywhere from a minute to an hour to publish my book once it’s
submitted and then it is later “checked” for inclusion to their extended
distribution catalogue. See, Smashwords distributes to 8 or 10 major retailers
such as Barnes and Noble and iBooks. Kobo, which is huge in Europe, takes about
72 hours to publish but I do my foreign language translations over there
because a lot of my readers in Spain, Italy, and France read on the Kobo
platform.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I suppose that’s about all I can say about
self-publishing. I hope, if you are a new author and haven’t published before,
some of what I do will be helpful to you. For my readers, I have just let you
into the “business” side of being an author. I hope I’ve been able to give you
a little bit of an appreciation for what it is I do and why. Until later, thank
you so much for tuning in </span><span style="font-family: "wingdings"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-37733099956908722082015-10-31T09:31:00.001-07:002015-10-31T09:31:07.368-07:009 new stories release today in the Lei Crime Kindle World including mine, Unforeseen Danger!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTldjZ7-iWkkgeMohV6OjJd6FyvIepiH71j5U5aXNWKmfxR_pAGSczcB37Z8tXpT-kJKZInwWKDf_4fwsUfjo52pLqbew8NyCtDs0rKls1CiR_-qTYaBYCU6X2Q_b3H7xxriWN81ZWt643/s1600/12189060_10208163630436548_1071542170395427048_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTldjZ7-iWkkgeMohV6OjJd6FyvIepiH71j5U5aXNWKmfxR_pAGSczcB37Z8tXpT-kJKZInwWKDf_4fwsUfjo52pLqbew8NyCtDs0rKls1CiR_-qTYaBYCU6X2Q_b3H7xxriWN81ZWt643/s320/12189060_10208163630436548_1071542170395427048_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4rCTa4GlFTlqdAX1iROzL-l8in_KToypDIrZ7g_Kqa29ZwKng6UtTUFpDC47ILbnpBq-RwJEl7wyHvwiTKYfGj9ZDP79RvG-1dHnD2JyY-KxZTOq6dbejGkpxsgPQShoRC-BGSy6cglB/s1600/12011195_10208163630076539_7192495962591901256_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4rCTa4GlFTlqdAX1iROzL-l8in_KToypDIrZ7g_Kqa29ZwKng6UtTUFpDC47ILbnpBq-RwJEl7wyHvwiTKYfGj9ZDP79RvG-1dHnD2JyY-KxZTOq6dbejGkpxsgPQShoRC-BGSy6cglB/s320/12011195_10208163630076539_7192495962591901256_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-4431402773967286562015-10-30T11:29:00.000-07:002015-10-30T11:29:08.901-07:00Genre-Hopping and the Untried Girl<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> I suppose I
could have said “Virgin” but let’s face it, I haven’t been one of those for a
few years at least. Yes, I’m speaking about publishing. What did you think I
was talking about? (Sorry, I was channeling Max Vos with his addictions for
Milk, there. Hee hee)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The fact
is, I stepped into new shoes this week. I began my publishing career as a MM
fiction author and it’s served me well. I have branded myself to the point that
people know when a comical BDSM meme comes up as a profile picture, it’s most
likely mine. But… things have changed a bit recently. Bear with me for just a
moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I’ve always
been a romantic. I cut my teeth on dime store romance paperback novels in the
70s when I was a very young teen. Growing up in a conservative family, going to
church and all the rest, wasn’t conducive to conversations with my parents
about the bodice-ripping heroes appearing on those covers. That meant, I had to
sit at the lunch tables in middle school and talk about the books and authors
we loved… Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, Laurie McBain, Jude Deveraux, and of course,
Barbara Cartland. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> My mother
worked in a bookstore and had encouraged my reading from a very young age. I
can’t remember a time when she didn’t read to me before I could read myself. It
was an amazing bonding time and she shared books with me that she thought I’d
like. She was constantly bringing home books for me to read and her favorite
genre was mystery/suspense. I grew to love Edgar Allan Poe, Stephen King, Robin
Cook and too many others to count. I can still remember a collection of Stephen
King’s short stories called “Night Shift” which was so damned amazing to the 15
year old me, I wanted to write stories just like that. I wasn’t a tremendous
horror fan, but then again, Stephen King’s books were more like suspense than
horror. Of course, sometimes they took that bloody leap off the cliff at the
end, but I always loved that about him. He was one screwed up author and I
adored that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Back to
recent changes. In May, AJ Llewellyn and I traveled to Austin to attend an
author conference. While waiting to catch our plane, she told me that she’d
been invited to write a book for a new-to-me author, Toby Neal, which would be
included in Toby’s Kindle World collection of novellas. I’d never heard of the
Kindle World books but from what AJ explained, they were Amazon’s answer to
fanfiction made available to readers through legal means without copy write
infringement. In other words, authors were allowed to take a character or several
from a book written by another author, and give them their own stories,
expanding on the world the other author had created. AJ was a huge fan of
Toby’s Lei Crime Series books (9 of them). I wished her luck, bought the nine
books, and dove into the series. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The Lei
Crime Series is a book series about a young Hawaiian female detective, Lei
Texeira, who solves crimes in Hawaii. She is bright, pretty, and very very
vulnerable and though the books are mystery/suspense/thrillers in the purest
sense of the word, they also have just a touch of romance which really appealed
to me. I thought to myself, writing in the Kindle World Toby had created
sounded like a lot of fun, so when AJ persuaded Toby to give me a shot at it,
and I received an invitation to write a book, I was over the moon with
excitement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> There were
several caveats to what we could put into our novellas. One or two were quite
daunting to me. First of all, I couldn’t use any characters I’d used in my own
novels because the characters I use for the KW book become the property of the
“World”. My readers understand what this means to me. I’ve written over 40
books and in some way, in NEARLY every book, there are crossover characters
which appear in each other’s books. If I set a book in LA for example, Cassidy
Ryan, my hot LAPD cop from Silver Ties, is probably going to appear in it as he
did in the Master’s Boys books, the Assassins books, the other Silvers books,
or the Marine Bodyguards book, “The Thief”. No problem. Create entirely new
characters for the Lei Crime KW novella. Check. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The other
daunting thing was writing a book without sex or foul language. I’m an author
of gay erotica so trust me, this was not an easy feat but that said, it was more
than a bit of a challenge. My readers can testify to the fact that writing
without an abundant use of swear words was more than just a bit of a challenge.
It was fucking difficult. </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">ß</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">-See? Haha. Truthfully, leaving the sex
out of the book was not as hard (pardon the pun) as I had envisioned it would
be, since in truth, I’m slightly burnt out on writing sex scenes. However, my
readers expect them and though I think they are important if the book calls for
them, I don’t include as many as I used to. The exception to this are my BDSM
books because they require more. But at this point I am much more interested in
plotting out a great story and writing the narrative than I am in writing how
part A goes into part B. This is a risk for me so I’m really hoping I’ve done a
good enough job at it that my readers stick with me after this. This means
turning out a really high quality book that keeps the pages turning. We’ll see
if I was able to do that. The feedback has been positive so far and in fact, a
close friend told me it’s the best book I’ve ever written. Well, I hope others
agree. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Next, the
most difficult thing of all when writing a book in some other author’s “World”
is staying true to my own voice and yet, making the book blend with her series
and writing her characters with realism. I had to make her characters in my
book sound as if they were written by her. Any author who has ever tried to do
this knows how nearly impossible this is to do effectively. In fact, I finished
the first 15,000 words of Unforeseen Danger and then after reading and
re-reading it, ended up deleting 7,500 of them because they sounded flat. I was
trying to sound like her and lost myself in the midst of it all. Not that Toby
writes flat at all. Her characters are beautifully developed and her stories highly
original but when I tried to write her characters, they didn’t sound like my
writing. Once I realized they WERE hers and didn’t have to sound like mine, I
was able to move forward. This little 32,000 word novella ended up taking me
twice as long as it should have because not only did I want to sound like
myself, I had to accurately represent her characters on the page because her
readers would know it if they didn’t. I’m satisfied with the finished product. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Finally,
this book is a mystery/suspense story. It is not a romance, although it most
definitely has elements of romance toward the end. It was a good exercise in
writing purely mystery, although my readers know how much I love writing
mystery. It appears in one way or another in nearly every book I write. I’ve
definitely written my share of bad guys and they always get theirs in the end. I’ve
shot them, run them though with a broadsword, and burnt them alive. Haha. Yes,
my bad guys always get it in the end. That is one of the elements I DIDN’T have
to change when writing Unforeseen Danger. I won’t give it away, but I think
you’ll like how it all turns out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> If this
experiment in writing mystery/suspense works, you’ll see more of it in the
future. I am encouraged by the rankings on Amazon and the positive reviews so
far. I hope you guys will give it a shot, if you haven’t so far, but be
prepared for something just a little different from this author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Thank you
for your support and encouragement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Patricia xoxo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-85516724327281531802015-10-30T11:23:00.003-07:002015-10-30T11:25:05.254-07:00"Unforeseen Danger" is now available on Amazon.com... Mystery/Suspense!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DZ1enmNWZ4xIy0I4TEnfhpQpeR_4qvTJ1G7_faEoAiuxrsQ0C1su_p088Xo07ogpzfmovhKQ1yaZn0GZi38CvQetHJJkOmNMDvyc72PvNSKaqziSkRva36L2TmJePDlhA4ONUzr_RFZ6/s1600/Unforeseen-Danger-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DZ1enmNWZ4xIy0I4TEnfhpQpeR_4qvTJ1G7_faEoAiuxrsQ0C1su_p088Xo07ogpzfmovhKQ1yaZn0GZi38CvQetHJJkOmNMDvyc72PvNSKaqziSkRva36L2TmJePDlhA4ONUzr_RFZ6/s320/Unforeseen-Danger-2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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http://www.amazon.com/Lei-Crime-Unforeseen-Danger-Novella-ebook/dp/B017AB33WI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1446229334&sr=8-1&keywords=Unforeseen+Danger</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03279024953860380125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7216707222454514572.post-30811812321391332722015-10-30T11:20:00.004-07:002015-10-30T11:20:41.108-07:00Unforeseen Danger... Excerpt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Lane tried to relax. He hoped if he tried to send out
enough positive vibes, Jack would be able to pick up on them and know that his
brother was still alive somewhere. That meant Jack would be looking… probably
looking for him right alongside his partner because if there was one certain
thing in this world, it was that those two men wouldn’t stop searching for him
until they found him, alive… or dead. As Lane heard the scrape of chains
against the solid wood door barring his escape from the room, he knew Crewcut
had come back and that his suffering would begin again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> He sat forward, feeling the strain in his arms,
accompanied by the other agonies he’d had inflicted on his bare chest and back.
Lane was covered with cigar burns, knife cuts, and the coppery scent of blood
rose to his nostrils as his newly scabbed wounds broke open and began to bleed.
As rusty hinges creaked and the door swung wide, Lane sighed quietly as Crewcut
stepped inside the room. The huge barrel-chested bear was dressed in black
leather pants, a wide leather harness crisscrossing his chest, and he was
biting down on the stub of a cigar clenched between his teeth. He gripped a
wide black leather belt stained with Lane’s blood. Crewcut eyeballed him evilly
as he drew on the cigar, lighting the end with a crackling red-orange flame for
just a second, before lifting his face to the ceiling and blowing the smoke toward
it. Lane watched as it swirled in a mocking gray circle, escaping out of the
room through a vent high in the wall only seconds later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Are you ready for more of the belt, boy?” Crewcut’s
voice scraped across Lane’s raw nerves as the man looked back down at him,
moving forward into the room, blocking the ceiling lamp from his view with his
flat-top blond haircut and throwing his evil face into shadow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Fuck you,” Lane spat. The sharp taste of blood from
the split in his lip slid onto his tongue as he glared at the huge biker in
front of him. If he was going to die, it was going to be with every last bit of
fight he had in him. He struggled to rise to his feet as Crewcut put a huge Doc
Marten boot on his chest and pushed him back on his ass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The thug chuckled. “As much as I’d like that, we’re
gonna have us a little more fun first.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lane tensed as Crewcut pulled the cigar out of his
mouth and bent down, holding the burning ember inches from his face. “I don’t
know what you want from me,” Lane snapped as he scooted back, coming up hard
against the cinderblock behind him. The feel of it was cold against his ravaged
back and as Crewcut squatted in front of him, he winced at the pain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Ya hurtin’ boy?” he growled. “All this can be over if
ya just convince me ya ain’t a cop.” He reached out and caressed the side of
Lane’s jaw with the side of the cigar butt, leaving heat in his wake as Lane
squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head aside. Any second he expected the
sizzle of burning flesh, the same way he’d endured it so many times in the past
several hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Jes think… there’s so many more fun things we could
be spendin’ our time doin’, now ain’t there?” Crewcut nearly purred and Lane
swallowed hard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Lane turned his head back and found Crewcut’s face
inches from his own. “FUCK YOU!” Lane glared at the big man, braced himself,
and then jerked forward, head-butting the biker in the nose as hard as he
could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> With a sickening crunch and a loud grunt, Crewcut fell
backward in a sprawl, landing all ass and elbows on the filth-covered floor. He
grabbed his face where Lane’s forehead had connected. Lane relaxed back against
the solid wall, feeling victory in the instantaneous agony in his forehead; he
took great pleasure as he watched blood spurt out of Crewcut’s nose and pour
through the fingers he held up to it. Lane had known the move would enrage the
biker but the smugness in Crewcut’s voice made him crazy and even though he was
restrained, Lane knew he had to fight. <i>I’m
not going to just lie down and die.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Crewcut scrambled up, hissing as he regained his
footing and he flew at Lane, tackling him to his back on the red mat with his
handcuffed arms behind him. He clutched Lane’s shoulders as he climbed over
him, digging his meaty fingers into them painfully as Lane grunted in agony.
When Crewcut snarled and leaned down in his face, Lane knew he’d overplayed his
hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “That was a mistake!” he gritted out, his eyes
flashing fire and hate. He balled a massive fist and before Lane could turn his
head, it landed on his left jaw with a hard enough blow, he was certain the man
knocked something loose. Lane grunted and braced himself for the next blow that
landed on the right side of his face and only a second later the breath hurled
out of his lungs in a loud <i>WHOOSH</i> as
Crewcut connected a balled fist with his solar plexus. Pain exploded in his
brain as the blows rained down and Lane reached up and grasped for
unconsciousness, grabbing a hold of it as the lights mercifully went out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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