Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Life, Love, me and my Muse

Hah! My muse has a great since of humor and at the same time she can be very vindictive, stubborn and mean. On more than one occasion I've been ready to write. Computer on. Note book open on the side. Pens, chocolate, beverage. Writing music playing softly. Everything's a go. But where oh where is my muse. Is she on vacation? Or just hiding in the shadows waiting to see how I was going to respond. Other times I'm in no mood to write. I just want to curl up in the recliner with a good book and She wouldn't let me. She keeps needling me until I wrote sometime. Write! Write! Write! Geez what a nag She can be. And then there are those times when I had made it perfectly clear which direction my WIP was going to go, who was going to do what, when, why and where. However, She had different ideas. Like I said, she can be very mean when She wants to. The funny thing, though, She always gets her way and the book is better for it. So when you wonder who I'm going to kill next the answer is no one. It was my muse. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I hope you enjoy my muse's latest release. It is the sequel to Sleeping Beauty. And remember, my muse is always awake, alive and plotting Her next... Where Yesterday’s Promises Excerpt Hook glanced at the darkened sky and the trillion stars peppering it like diamonds on a black velvet blanket and then toward the woman standing on the porch, a look of confusion on her face as well. Her body silhouetted against the softness of the light only tightened his resolve more. His body tightened with just the thought of holding her. She was the only one who calmed him… his beast when his skin itched the way it did when he wanted to run, to shift and couldn't. Times like now. He never understood why or how she had such power over him. Tonight he desired… no, wanted to feel her soft skin under his hands, her mouth against his lips. Each time he saw her, was near her, the need became more volatile. He wondered if she ever knew, understood what she did to him. His skin grew taunt just thinking about it, about not having her the way he wanted. He shook his head, turned back forward and started the engine. He pulled his car from the curb in one quick burst of power when his foot pressed the gas pedal. Loose gravel spun from under the wheel. He cursed to himself when the red light caught him. Hook glanced at his wrist watch, pulled his cell phone out and dialed Father Kenny’s home number and hoped he was in. Father Kenny, the keeper of the wolf as they’d grown to call him knew their secrets, their dark places and the light. He was the one person, not Lycan they could go to in time of need. Kenny picked up on the third ring. “Kenny. Hook. Need you over at De’s.” He hung up without further explanation. Hook thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for the light to turn green. He’d thought briefly about running it as an eerie feeling slid across his skin and prickled the hairs on his arms. He tried to shake it off as nervous energy left over from Demetrius’ call. He glanced to his right, then his left. A woman sat in the black SUV in the next lane. She stared at Hook with determination etched across her face. Most people would look away when they are caught. She didn't. She just sat there and stared. Her head slowly nodded, but Hook knew it wasn't to any music. The light turned green and she sped off. He sat there another moment wondering who she was. She looked at him as if she knew him. Did she. If so, from where? Her face was not one you would forget. Rich dark chocolate wrapped in braids with eyes that could melt the paint off of a wall were dark and mysterious. The light changed again and Hook hit the gas and slipped through just as it turned red. The anxious nervousness he’d felt moments before now knotted his gut. Something was wrong. Deathly wrong.

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