THE DAY I LEARNED THERE REALLY ARE U.S. MARSHALS

I’m sure I never gave much thought to there really being U.S. Marshals. If the subject ever crossed my mind, it would have been in the form of watching Marshal Matt Dillion ride across the plains of Kansas on his big gray horse or maybe Wyatt Earp in a shoot-out in Dodge City. Hell, I thought U.S. Marshals died out with the Old West.

I’m here to tell you, that isn’t true. They’re here. And they’re likely here to stay…forever. Which is a good thing. I’m in no way denying they’re a good thing.

But the day I learned they were real was a real eye-opener for me. I was sooo not prepared to meet a U.S. Marshal, especially not with no makeup on, my hair slicked back in a ponytail, baggy sweatpants, overly large top, plus that little extra bit of weight a woman puts on every month.

But, come hell or highwater, I was about to meet one.

The day started out like any other day, a nice, cloud-free sunny sky, typical for Florida, with not a hint of warning of what was about to happen. The only thing different that morning, was that my younger son, Shayne was home sick with the flu.

Around nine a.m. the phone rang. You would think a tingle of warning would slide down my spine warning me not to answer the phone, or I would hear the theme from Jaws in the back of my head telling me nothing good was about to happen.

But no. Nothing like that occurred. So, here I am, not a forewarning in sight and me, bloated, innocent, and unprepared, answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Blaylock?”

“Yes?”

“This is Marshal Dan Trooper.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure it is.” In the back of my mind I’m thinking this is one of Shayne’s school buddies pulling a prank because Shayne is absent from school. Playing along, I said, “If this is about him being absent from school today, he’s sick with the flu.”

“No, ma’am, this isn’t about him being absent from school, but I do need you to bring him to the school.”

“Yeah, right. Is this a joke? You aren’t really a U.S. Marshal. There’s no such thing.”

“Yes, ma’am, I assure you, there really are U.S. Marshals, and I’m one of them.” By this time, his voice was dead serious, a thread impatient, and I’m feeling damn nervous.

Why the hell is a U.S. Marshal calling my house? I haven’t done anything wrong. Lately.

“I need you to bring your son, Shayne to the school. I have some questions he needs to answer.”

“Can you tell me what this is about?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

Huh. Okay. “He’s in the bed with the flu.”

Surely, no respectable U.S. Marshal would want an over-protective mama to get her child up and drag him out of the house to be questioned when said child was so ill.

And why the hell was I arguing with this man? I didn’t mean to question him or his authority. Of course, my mind was numb. I couldn’t think, else I’d shut my big mouth and just say, ‘Yes, sir’, ‘No, sir’, and, ‘No problem, sir’.

But all I could think was my son is ill. I didn’t want to disturb him. At the same time, I was terrified. Why did a U.S. Marshall want to question my son?

I don’t think the man hesitated with his response. “I need you to bring your son to the school. Now. Or I’ll come get him.”

Holy shit! “I’ll bring him, but I have to wake him up. He’ll have to get ready, but we’ll be there in a little bit.”

By now, my gut burned, churned, and my head pounded. My hands shook. I was ready to burst into tears. What the hell has my poor baby done that warrants a call from a U.S. Marshal? I couldn’t think of anything. I knew he hadn’t robbed a bank or we’d be living high on the hog. He hadn’t kidnapped anyone. I’d know that for sure, because we lived in a trailer and there wasn’t room for anyone extra.

Anyway, I hurried to my son’s bedroom. “Shayne, you have to get up,” I yelled in a calm voice.

“Mom, I’m sick.”

“I know, but they want you to come to the school.”

“Why?”

“You tell me. It was a U.S. Marshall that called.”

By now, Shayne had poked his head out from under the covers. “U.S. Marshal? What did he want?”

“He wants you at the school. Now. What have you done?”

My son is fifteen. He’s a typical teenager, but still, a good kid. At least, I thought he was. I couldn’t imagine what he could have done, what heinous crime he might have committed to warrant all this.

He flung back the covers and moved to the edge of the bed. “I don’t think it’s anything serious, Mom.”

He says this to me and I’m thinking, Oh, hell yeah, it’s serious. This is a U.S. Marshal calling my house. I didn’t even know we still had U.S. Marshals, but I do now. It. Is. Serious.

“Not serious?” I blinked and remained calm. “You know what this is about?”

“It’s probably about the school bomb,” he said nonchalantly. No big deal. Just a little old school bomb.

My head reeled. My hands turned sweaty. “Bomb? School bomb? What school bomb? Has the school been bombed? Why didn’t I know that?”

“No, Mom, the school hasn’t been bombed.” So, damn patient, when I’m on the edge of a breakdown.

“What’s going on? How are you involved in a school bombing?”

“I’m not involved in a school bombing.” Again, soft and patient, like he was explaining to a little child.

In that moment, I felt like a little child. I wanted to jump in his bed and pull those covers over my head and never crawl out again, but sadly, we all must face the real world, and today, this was my real world.

“You’ll find out what it’s all about when we get to the school, Mom. I have to get ready.”

He dismissed me, like he was the parent. Standing there, I realized my son was too mature, too grown up for his age. In a matter of seconds, he’d become a man in my eyes. I wanted to weep, yet at the same time, I wanted to hug him, hold him close, protect him from the evils of the world. My son, who was just a boy, couldn’t possibly be involved in a school bombing in any form or fashion.

I looked back on my years of rearing him. I’d taught him right from wrong, taught him to be a good human being and never harm others.

But I doubted myself. Surely, I taught him not to do such ugly things, taught him not to destroy, but to appreciate life and all that entailed, to come to me if he had problems. I’d be there for him. Yet, with something so huge looming before us, I didn’t know if I’d be able to do anything to help him. This was serious. The long arm of the law had reached out for my baby. I was terrified it’d take him away from me. In these kind of moments, you aren’t sure you’ve done anything right when it comes to turning your child into a responsible adult.

I walked the floor and bit my thumb nail down to the quick as I waited on him to get dressed. When he came out of his room, he wasn’t nervous or upset, or even willing to run, which is what I wanted to do. I wanted to take him, cover him in bubble wrap, hold him in my arms like I did when he was a baby and lead him to my getaway car ASAP.

When we arrived at the school, which was five minutes from the house, someone guided us to a room. In this room stood a long table where several people were seated on one side. The empty chairs on the other side were for me, my husband, and son. A tall, lanky man stood back in a corner. I knew he was the marshal right away. He had that air of authority about him. He didn’t crack a smile. He stood with his arms folded across his chest and a hard look in his eyes. A, Don’t Tread on me, warning on his face.

“Sit down,” he said.

I sat down. Who was I to argue with a U.S. Marshal? I figured I’d already used up my quota of debating with the man. Not a whisper of disagreement escaped my lips. My husband sat down beside me. Still. Quiet. I swear he looked paler than Death, and I felt damned ethereal.

“Is this Shayne?” the marshal asked.

I nodded. “Yes sir, this is my son, Shayne. My youngest son. I have three other sons.” I guess I was volunteering them if he wanted to question them, too. “Yes, Shayne’s my baby.” Why I babbled, I have no clue, but I couldn’t make mouth behave.

There was another man in the room seated at the table, the superintendent of the school. He suddenly jumped up and leaned across the table right in Shayne’s face and shouted, “If I find out you had anything to do with this threat to bomb the school, you’ll be expelled for the rest of the year!”

I was so taken aback. I had no clue how to respond to that. And I thought, ‘Oh God, if they expel him, he’ll lose a year and have to go through that grade again’. 

Before I could say a word in my son’s defense, the U.S. Marshall plowed right in, in a no-nonsense, take-charge-kind-of-way. “It’s my understanding that if it wasn’t for this young man reporting the threat of a bomb, you wouldn’t know there was a threat. It’s not his fault. He’s your witness.”

Oh, yeah. Take that, dumb superintendent!

Suddenly, the U.S. Marshal was my hero, my son’s savior, my hero, my hero, my hero. The mother came out in me immediately. My heart burst with pride and relief. My son wasn’t a terrorist/bomber, after all, but a possible witness to the event. That changed everything. I hoped.

“Now then, Shayne,” the marshal said, “why don’t you tell us what happened, beginning yesterday. I understand this all started on your bus ride home after school?”

“Yes, sir,” my son said, so polite. So, mannerly.

Did I teach him that? An hour earlier, I would have said I’d failed to teach him a damn thing, but now…now, things were different.

“My buddy, Mike and I were riding behind two boys on the bus,” Shayne continued, “and we heard them making plans to write a note to bomb the school. We didn’t know if they were serious or just joking around, so we tried to listen, but we couldn’t hear anything else they said.”

“What happened then?” the marshal asked.

“The boys got off the bus and Mike and I moved up to their seats to see if they left any evidence behind.”

“Did they?” the marshal inquired. He was very patient with his questioning.

“They did.” Shayne nodded. “They left a note in the seat. Mike and I read it and thought it needed to be turned over to the school authorities.”

“What did the note say?” Again, the marshal was calm and quiet with his questioning. Thank God, because I was on the verge of hysterics.

Who were these boys who wanted to threaten the school?

Were they dangerous?

Would they go after Shayne and his friend for turning them in?

Shayne lifted a brow and shrugged. The note, written with pencil, stated, ‘There’s a bomb at the school.’”

Duh! Simple enough to deduct.

The marshal handed Shayne a plain piece of notebook paper all wrinkled and a small corner torn off a sheet of paper. “Is this the note?”

Shayne looked it over. “Yes, sir, that’s the note we found on the seat.”

“And you and your friend saw them write it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then Shayne had a question of his own, which astounded all of us. “Did you catch the boys who wrote the note?”

I didn’t think the marshal would answer him, but he did. “We talked to them already. They won’t be attending school here for quite some time. It seemed one of the boys has a birthday today, and he wanted the school to close down for one day so he could celebrate without being marked absent.” He shook his head. “He got his wish, the school is closed for today, but as I said, neither boy will be back. If they give you any trouble, call me. I’ll take care of them.”

I was never so relieved to get out of a place in all my life. Still, I had a big grin on my face. My son, the hero, brought about the day I learned, there really are U.S. Marshals. 

Please Welcome the Fantastic Romance Author, Flossie Benton Rogers

Lord of Fire – Wytchfae 5

Good Morning Readers,
Today's special guest is the super paranormal romance author, Flossie Benton Rogers. Please make her feel welcome and leave a comment for this wonderful lady.

Hi, Tabitha! Flossie Benton Rogers here. Thank you for featuring Lord of Fire today. By the way, I love your witch books (and your other books as well)! I thought we’d start out by talking about the fae dimensions and a few of the beings that inhabit them.

Author Bio:

Flossie Benton Rogers is the author of the Wytchfae paranormal romance series. She is Sagittarius with a Libra ascendant and Taurus moon, or a 5^th generation Floridian and freedom loving mystic. She pursues her passion for mythology by writing romances with fairies, goddesses, ghosts, angels, demons, and other magical beings. The Wytchfae world brims with dimensions parallel to our own. Some are welcoming, others dangerous and forbidding. Through the darkest night and the fright of unchained chaos, love will always shine.

Blurb: When The Hawk meets his Wytchfae, the result is spontaneous combustion.

 Garnet McAnna chases the demon responsible for attacking and enslaving innocent fae familiars. She never expected to run headlong into a mesmerizing stranger known as The Hawk. Nor did she anticipate the way his masculine power kindles a womanly flame within her.

 Exiled from an elite warrior's brigade, Lord of Fire Gabriel Hawk guards his heart and his solitude. He wants nothing to do with the world of men or the realm of fae. Then a beautiful Wytchfae bursts into his life, stirring desire and sparking need. Garnet is on a dangerous mission, and he can't let her face the evil alone. What else can he do but fight beside her? When she disappears, he raises hell to find her. Will he be too late? Will darkness conquer this couple or will love burn their souls into one?

The Wytchfae World: The realms encountered in the Wytchfae series of paranormal romance / urban fantasy novels are closer to us than a hair’s breadth. These mysterious places are populated with faeries, witches, demons, angels, goddesses, dark guardians, ghosts and other magical beings. The beings dwell in multiple dimensions parallel to our own earth dimension. Some of the worlds are welcoming, others dangerous and forbidding. Through the darkest night and the fright of unchained chaos, love will always shine.

Wytchfae: Trained witches who possess a smattering of fae blood. Although they live on our regular earth plane, some of them visit other worlds as well as other times. Different Wytchfae have different abilities.

Grims: Creatures contained in a certain area of the Underworld.  Unfortunately for humans, their nourishment comes from sucking out a person’s life energy via memories. Grims also relish the taste of human blood.

Remnants: Grims who have degenerated into mindless, zombie-like slugs due to not having access to enough “food.”

Dark Guardians: Powerful male demigods who are in charge of various domains, such as the undersea realm and the empty void between dimensions. They are often heroes of the books.

Tuatha de Danann: Ancient Celtic tribe that inspired the modern vision of fairies.

Firbolg: Enemies of the Tuath.

Succubi: Ruled by the demoness Lilith, a succubus will seduce dreaming men.

Helios: Lords of Fire, warriors with control over fire and other dangerous elemental energies.

Time Singers: Potent Wytchfae with the ability to transport others back and forth in time.

 First Line Teaser: She’d catch the demon tonight if it killed her.

 Memorable Quote: “Garnet McAnna, you’re the hottest woman in thirteen worlds.”

 Excerpt:

Lost in her thoughts, Garnet ran up against something hard and springy, and a sharp point pricked the soft flesh of her thumb. She squeezed off the pain with her other hand.

Damned barbed wire.

She had already made it to the fence line and hadn’t even realized it. Sucking in a deep breath, she cleared her mind to concentrate on the task at hand. She had to edge around the boundary to the north side of this large piece of private property to gain access to the portal. Then she’d hunker down in the bushes and wait on the demon Borros.

Moving swiftly again, she cut a wide swath away from the metal fence. Snorting sounds came from within one of the corrals she had noted early this morning when she skirted the property. Horses and a few cattle had grazed within.

Bearing around the corner to head north toward the portal, a splash of incandescent green appeared and then disappeared in front of her. Startled, she blinked and reached into her coat pocket for the revolver. The weapon lay cold and substantial in her hand. She stilled her body to a midnight silence.

The eerie green reappeared and dashed around her body without spotlighting her in any way. It formed a mysterious elongated glow. She clamped down harder on the gun handle to stop her hand from trembling, while shifting positions to keep the phenomenon in front of her.

Her mind tumbled over possibilities. The light couldn’t be swamp gas, as it seemed to proceed purposefully. Its movement created a slight whirring sound. A will ’o the wisp? Somehow she thought not, but what was it?

The presence darted behind her.

Before she could turn, a warm, corporeal hand covered her own and relieved her of the weapon. Whirling around, she came face to face with—a man.

A gasp escaped her lips. With his substantial height, he towered over her. A faint greenish residue of light illuminated him enough so that the fierce scowl on his face caused her heart to thump into overdrive.

She swallowed, fingering the sheath of one of the knives in her pocket. Damn it, next time she’d bring a backup piece. She forced herself to speak, but despite her efforts, her voice rasped. “Give me back my weapon.”

His sonorous growl reminded her of a feral animal. “Not so fast. What the hell are you doing sneaking around my property with a firearm in the middle of the night?”

Video Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTifE-174mE

 Buy Links:

Amazon http://amzn.to/1nzt1Bs

Secret Cravings Publishing http://bit.ly/1FKwWBu

Barnes & Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wytchfae-5-flossie-benton-rogers/1120627377?ean=2940046361803

Bookstrand http://www.bookstrand.com/wytchfae-5-lord-of-fire

All Romance https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-wytchfae5lordoffire-1654243-149.html

Connect with Flossie:

Website: http://flossiebentonrogers.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/FlossieBentonRogersAuthor

Twitter: http://twitter.com/FrostFyre

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/Wytchfae

LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/flossiebentonrogers

Goodreads author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6553203.Flossie_Benton_Rogers

Amazon author page: http://amazon.com/author/flossiebentonrogers

Please Welcome, The Amazing Romance Author, Kenzie Michaels!

Here's a little bit about my special guest today. Please make Kenzie feel welcome by leaving her a comment today.

Thanks for having me today Tabs!  Reminder, my contest is still going on.  Comment to win your copy of Heart’s Last Chance!  Winners will be chosen at the end of September, so don’t forget to leave your contact information!

When I first began reading erotic romances, they always seemed too short.  What happened once the lovers climbed out of bed and returned to the Real World?  What if someone got a phone call from an ex-lover who suddenly wanted to get back together?  What if plans to see each other for lunch or dinner fell through because of work?  I decided that if I were to ever write an erotic romance, to at least answer the question of ‘what happens next?’

 For the most part, I’ve done this.  Occasionally, you realize many romances may not ‘HEA’ but in actuality, more along the ‘HEA….For Now’ lines. 

 When Brock revealed that he only had a week to gain Tricia’s trust and devotion, I wondered how the hell I was going to handle this.  It’s always been my experience that relationships need a minimum of three months to fully develop, no matter how awesome the chemistry or ‘instant attraction’ may be.  Not everyone is like that; I’ve known couples who’ve met, married after a few weeks, and are still together 20-plus years later. 

 This excerpt shows Tricia struggling with her feelings.  She knows Brock’s time constraints, but a crisis has occurred on his planet, and she is suddenly thrust into a strange family dynamic.  The more time she spends with his family, the more her feelings grow.  What would you do if faced with the knowledge your lover might never again return to Earth if your feelings are insincere toward him?

Blurb:

Everyone has an imaginary friend at some point, right?  Well, what if you discover yours is actually an alien who is

fascinated with Earth? 

 Tricia Alexander's dreams are haunted by a mystery lover.  When she discovers the man she met in a nightclub is from another planet, will she accept his story or kick him out?

 Brock was young Tricia's imaginary friend and confidant, and watched her grow up over the years.  After gaining permission from the leaders of his planet, he sought to bond with her twice before, but with little results.  When he's given a final chance, will he succeed?  Or will a family crisis prove too much?

 Excerpt:

“Brock, it gets better every time. Do you feel this?”

 “I know.” He straightened up on wobbly legs, then assisted her in standing. “Let’s lie down.”

 Brock led her to the bed and pulled back the covers. They slid between the cool sheets and reached for each other, Tricia’s head against Brock’s chest with his arms around her.

 “I love you.” He could barely make out the words.

 What did you say?

 I said I think I love you.

 He felt fresh moisture on his chest. “Tricia, please don’t cry.” Tipping her face upwards,

Brock brushed his thumbs across her lower eyelids, wiping away the tears.

 “I’ve never felt this much passion for a man before, or even this much love inside for another, and it’s only been what, five days?” She sniffed, then burrowed her face in his neck. “I think you’re right, we may be soul mates. Why did I not recognize you the first time?”

 “I don’t think I was patient enough. You did not know what you wanted the first time around. I should have waited a bit longer, but I was afraid of losing you to the wrong man.” He stroked her hair.

 “That wouldn’t have happened. The longest relationship I was in only lasted a year and a half, and I tried to break up with him three times.” Tricia hugged him. “I’d come to realize I was getting bored every three months. Which makes me wonder how I’m going to feel about you in twelve weeks.”

 SCP: 

  http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=941&zenid=9ji294fhhbup3dn4b1oojggvt6

  

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Hearts-Last-Chance-Chosen-Book-ebook/dp/B00NDZK64O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1410986865&sr=8-1&keywords=heart%27s+last+chance+kenzie+michaels

Today's Very Special Guest: Romance Author--Violet Ingram

Let's give Violet a big welcome. Please leave a comment for her.

Now, here's a little bit about my guest..

Author Bio:

Violet Ingram is a wife, mother, and author. She and her husband have been married for over 24 years and they have 5 children.

Violet’s love of books was the direct result of having spent Saturday mornings going to libraries with her mom. Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Encyclopedia Brown were the first books she fell in love with.

Violet lives in the Midwest where she is busy at work on her next book.

Blurb:

Spending time with a dead guy, being interrogated by the cops and getting stitched up by a cute ER doc wasn't exactly the evening plans private investigator Kimberly Murphy envisioned. Especially the getting caught standing over a dead body, again, part. Only this time it wasn't her fault. Just once she’d like it if homicide detective Grant Tompkins didn't assume she was guilty.

To clear her slightly tarnished name, Kim goes after the clever killer while avoiding a certain hot homicide detective determined to put her in handcuffs – and not the pink, fuzzy kind – not that she’d mind. Too bad Kim’s efforts lead to dead ends and even more dead bodies. Kim will need all her skills and a bit of luck to outwit a killer who’d like to put an end to Kim’s meddling permanently.

Excerpt:

Sunday evening

Cops hate it when you vomit all over their crime scene—a mistake I had no desire to repeat. Then again, the fact I’d just trampled all over this scene was probably a whole new mistake I should have avoided. I stared at the corpse and fought the urge to hurl. If only I hadn’t answered the door, I’d be eating dinner instead of standing in my neighbor’s apartment looking at a dead guy.

Said dead guy was just sitting there in the chair. You would think he was asleep—if not for all the blood and guts spilled onto his lap. I tore my eyes from him and asked the question I most wanted the answer to.

“What the heck did you hit him with?”

Lindsay dropped the strand of blonde hair she’d been twirling and glanced down at the floor. “My shoe.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve already told you. Twice. I hit him with my shoe.”

“Damn it, Lindsay, you can’t kill someone with a shoe!”

“Hello, they’re Via Spiga.”

 Death by High Heels available at:

http://store.sweetcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&products_id=228&zenid=1c1639b6bcf63c4e1b154012d1f3c552

http://www.amazon.com/Death-High-Heels-Investigator-Book-ebook/dp/B00MEX9JNK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407939482&sr=8-1&keywords=death+by+high+heels

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/466637

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-deathbyhighheels-1588019-177.html

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/death-by-high-heels-violet-ingram/1120058603?ean=2940149623501

Contact info:

Blog:  http://violetingram.blogspot.com/

Facebook:  Violet Ingram

Twitter:  @violetingram

Email:  violetingramauthor@gmail.com

Please Make Welcome, Romance Author, M S Spencer

Hello Readers,
Please take a minute to say hi to, M S Spencer, and make her feel welcome. Leave a comment for a chance to win one of Ms. Spencer's novels. Please a way to contact you in case you're the winner.

AUTHOR BIO:

Although she has lived or traveled in every continent except Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Ms. Spencer has published nine romance novels. The first two, Lost in His Arms and Lost and Found, were published by Red Rose Publishing. The other six—Losers Keepers, Triptych, Artful Dodging: The Torpedo Factory Murders, Mai Tais and Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine (a Sarasota Romance, Lapses of Memory, and the Mason's Mark —were published by Secret Cravings. Whirlwind Romance, her ninth, was released September 2014.

What do pirates, princes, Puritans, and propaganda have in common? Lacey Delahaye, forager and jelly maker, finds out in this romantic suspense set in the western Caribbean. A randomly chosen comment will win a copy of this wonderful story.

Blurb:

In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken far from civilization to a tiny, remarkable island in the western Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin, a small, but proud young boy named Inigo, and a cadre of extraordinary characters, Lacey and Armand must confront pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical paradise to its former serenity and find lasting happiness.

Excerpt (R) : A Wet Reunion

Lacey fidgeted. Inigo said she would see Armand, but when? And how? She enjoyed Maitea’s and Edrigu’s company, but if she didn’t find herself in Armand’s arms soon she’d go stark raving mad.

“Dinner is served.”

They filed into the dining room. Lacey peered into every corner, hoping to see Armand. No one except the butler and a footman peered back. After dinner, Maitea suggested a stroll on the battlements. Lacey lagged behind in case Armand lay in wait for her. Nothing. They did two circuits and, as the moon rose, Maitea yawned. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re tired. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

No one waited for her there either. She even checked the shower just in case. At last, she undressed and lay down. She remembered this room and the bed, and a beautiful night of lovemaking. Now she couldn’t sleep. She went out on the balcony. The moon rode high, walking a carpet of stars. Their myriad needles of light bounced off something below. A terrace? No, a swimming pool. Funny, I didn’t notice it the last time I was here. A swim in the moonlight might relax me. She slipped out of her nightgown, threw on a thin robe, and followed a set of rough, rock-hewn steps down.

At the bottom she found an oval pool, almost hidden by tall pink oleander and night-blooming jasmine. A waterfall tinkled at one end. She slipped into the water. It felt cool against her skin. She floated on her back, gazing up at the sky. Contentment filled her. I can wait for Armand—there’s all the time in the world. Anticipation is half the fun anyway.

The whisper wafted across the ripples. “So you have come back to me.” For a horrible second she thought Damien—or worse, Traficant—had found her. But then a wet head rose next to her and shook the glistening black locks out of a dear face.

“Armand!”

He swam a lap around her. “Who did you expect?”

Dazed, she touched his face. “I’d about given up hope for tonight.”

“I’ve been waiting here for you. Come to me.”

If this were a scene suitable for children, the next few minutes would allude to sighs and chaste kisses. Or there would be a scene break with the words “romantic interlude” accompanied by a little light music.

But it’s not.

Lacey rolled over in the water, placed a hand on Armand’s head and ducked him under. He came up spitting and laughing. “That’s no way to treat a prince.”

“That’s the way I treat my princes. Where have you been, anyway?”

Armand didn’t answer. He ducked under the water again. In the dark Lacey felt something gently touch her thigh, then pull it to the right. Bubbles rose up under her, tickling the lips of her vagina. She twisted, trying to cross her legs to get away from the sensation. A hand grabbed her other thigh and dragged it to the left. Lips replaced the bubbles, then a tongue speared her unprotected channel, darting in and out, prodding the nub of her clitoris. She took hold of Armand’s shoulders and pulled his head closer. The orgasm kindled. Just as she slid over the edge, Armand’s head came up. He gasped and sucked in a mouthful of air. “Armand, I was almost there! Why did you stop?”

He panted, “If you want more, you’ll have to allow me to breathe now and then.”

 “All right—go ahead and rest a bit. Catch your breath.” She dropped below the surface, circling around to Armand’s rear. Reaching between his legs, she hefted his balls and rolled them in her hand. His fingers gently pried her hand away and pulled her between his thighs. His cock, hard as a shillelagh, bobbed before her. She caught it with her mouth and ran her tongue around it. Armand kicked his feet and rose to the surface, bringing Lacey with him. He held on to the coping with one hand to stabilize them and let Lacey finish her work. “Oh God, Lacey, that’s it!” Warm, creamy semen spurted out, dissipating in the water.

Armand swung her around so her back was to the pool wall and straddled her.

“Have you caught your breath yet?”

“Oh, yes.” He held her waist and let the still rigid penis slide into her waiting pussy. The soft water cradled them as they moved in rhythm, making their own waves. In the dark Lacey could make out little except the saffron flashes in Armand’s eyes. She kept her gaze locked on them while his thrusts lifted her almost out of the water. Like dolphins mating, they breached and plunged until the moment when man touched the innermost part of woman and fused. The wire connecting them across the miles, a wire that had been stretched almost to its limit, recoiled into its natural shape—a spring tightly coiled around them as they clung together.

Armand wrapped Lacey in his arms. “It’s been so long,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head, her forehead, her nose. “I've imagined this moment—”

“Every day, every hour—”

“Every second.”

His lips fastened on hers.

*****

Buy Links:

Secret Cravings:

http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=934

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Whirlwind-Romance-M-S-Spencer-ebook/dp/B00N105I4E/

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-whirlwindromance-1605591-153.html

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/whirlwind-romance

Contacts:

Blog: http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com OR

http://bit.ly/1aBzraT

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencertalespinner

Twitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
GoodReads:http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/

WELCOME TO TUESDAY'S TALES

Hello Readers,
Welcome to this week's Tuesday Tales. The prompt for the week is "Right" .....

I decided on a change of pace this week and left Ginger and the Gray Mortuary behind to move to the paranormal historical I'm working on and hope to have released later this year. It's titled, Darkest Angel, and is Book 2 in my Angels of Deadwood Gulch Series. Emily and Slade are secondary characters in the novel, but I hope you'll enjoy this snippet from when they first meet.

Darkest Angel/Shay

He come riding from the west, a tall man in the saddle silhouetted against the setting sun. Riding slowly, he didn't give the impression he was in a hurry, but from the way he looked around, he was careful. When he rode into the yard, his eyes took in everything.

Emily didn't know why she wasn't afraid, but somehow she knew he wasn't a threat, at least, not to her. 
He was cautious.

She didn't fault him for being so.

Dressed all in black, she couldn't very well deny he looked menacing, especially with the worn leather holsters strapped to his hips, two Colt .45s in place.

When he got off the horse, she held her breath.

What did he want?

She remained behind the waist high well where she was drawing water to carry to the chickens. The board enclosure around the four sides blocked most of his view of her.

“Ma’am,” he said politely and tipped his dark hat.

He remained beside his horse, maybe to assure her he meant her no harm. A gunfighter. The second in three days she’d met—first Rio, now this stranger. Gunfighters weren't new to the Dakota Territory, but she’d always managed to avoid them.

Who was he?

Why was he here?

She nodded a hello and finished pulling up the bucket of water. She hefted the full bucket on to the top of the well. Water splashed over the sides wetting the front of her gown, her shoes, and the boards.

“That water sure looks good,” he said in a soft drawl sliding his gaze up and down the front of her gown. “Mind giving a stranger a drink?”

Heat crawled up her face. Were his words sincere or did they have a double meaning? Emily shaded her eyes against the evening sun and studied him for a long moment. The way his gaze kept returning to her breasts, she was pretty sure his words were filled with meaning.

And yes, she did mind, but she wasn't rude enough to say such words. He didn't appear uncomfortable with her suspicious look directed at him. She didn't detect hostility, but Lord above, she had the feeling he could get dangerous real fast, even if he was the stillest man she'd ever seen.

He must have sensed her hesitation. “I emptied my canteen some ways back,” he said, “but if you prefer not to share your water, I can get back on my horse and mosey on.” He seemed intent on reassuring her he meant no harm, but trust didn't come easy for Emily.

He tossed his reins over his saddle and took a single step toward the well.

Emily let go of the pail of water and closed her fingers around the rifle standing at her side. From where he stood, he couldn't see the gun, but he must have instinctively known she had a weapon because he froze. “Ma’am, my name’s Slade. Slade McKenna. I’m a U.S. Marshall. I’m not here to cause you grief, so if you wouldn't mind, I’d sure like it if you’d take your hand off that rifle.”

“I mind,” she said, keeping her fingers wrapped around the barrel. “I don’t see a badge. Not on your vest. Not on your shirt.”

“No, ma’am. It’s in my pocket. I don’t like making myself a target. There are men who like nothing better than putting a bullet through a badge while a man’s still wearing it.”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” she replied. “You can have a drink of water.” She lifted the gourd dipper off the nail where it dangled on the well post. With her free hand, she dipped it into the bucket of water. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He took the gourd from her, careful to keep the well between them. “You sure are a distrusting little gal.”

She didn't reply. Emily had little use for small talk.

He handed the dipper back to her and backed away. Reaching his horse, he grabbed the reins. “Mind if I water my horse at that trough over there?” He’d already turned the sorrel colored mare before he asked.

Startled, Emily snatched up the rifle and leveled it on his chest. “Don’t move.”

He dropped the reins and raised his hands in surrender. “Yes ma’am. I reckon I’ll just stand right here until you tell me otherwise.”

RETURN TO TUESDAY TALES
AND SOME WONDERFUL AUTHORS... 

WELCOME TO TUESDAY TALES

Hi Everyone,
Every Tuesday, a small group of authors get together and post a few snippets from a WIP. It's fun, plus it lets the author know how well her work is progressing. This week's word is BLOOM...Feel free to leave a comment. Yes, authors love comments too...Hope you enjoy this weeks excerpt from a WIP, a paranormal titled A Cut Above the Rest.

Continuing the tale of the Gray sisters...

 Ginger Gray knew the moment she completed the infamous Y-cut down the center of the masculine chest stretched before her on the autopsy table, and the corpse opened its eyes—it was going to be a bad night at Gray Mortuary. “Oh my Aunt Fannie’s garters,” she declared in a slow Georgia drawl.

Unable to take her eyes off the splendid male body before her, she drew a quivering breath, then took a cautious step back from the fresh cadaver, a fresh cadaver, who was staring at her as if she was a fresh bloom waiting to be plucked. 

Gray Mortuary—where all things go bump in the night.

But this? This was impossible.

She swallowed back the urge to scream. Heck, it wasn't fair. She shouldn't even be here, let alone standing here gaping at a naked, blinking corpse. It wasn't happening. Her imagination must be working overtime, just like she was—or else that last glass of wine she indulged in at dinner before dear ole’ dad placed his call to her, contained more alcohol than she thought.

Nope, it was her imagination—else the freaking body had nerves twitching all over the place.

She blamed the twins. If they hadn't been determined to go to that blasted Halloween party, she’d be home curled up with a good Jaydyn Chelcee novel. She didn't know which twin placed the call to their father begging him for the rest of the night off and suggesting Ginger fill their shoes since she never had a date on Friday night, he caved, as usual.

“It’s my night off, damn it,” she shouted, purely in self-defense to no avail. She didn't know if she was screaming at the breathing corpse or the room in general.

It didn't matter if what her sister said was true and Ginger never had a date on Friday night, she still wanted and deserved her time off. But like her father, she always gave in when it came to the younger twins and their demands. They weren't bad girls. They weren't always selfish or expected things their way. Ginger snorted. No, what they expected was every weekend off!

They loved pulling practical jokes on her. This waking corpse was right down their alley, especially since it was Halloween. It was a joke. Yeah-yeah. Maybe one of her sisters, one of the other set of twins, either Scotlyn or Irelyn suggested this horrible prank to the younger twins and knowing them, they went along with the idea and decided to pull a fast one on her.

Scotlyn and Irelyn were two years younger than her. They were as big a pranksters as Kadence and Kennadee. They were probably inside this big old building in a room somewhere with a monitor and watching her reaction. 

She took a quick second to scan the room for a video camera but didn't spot one. They loved to catch her unaware and pull some crazy stunt, like the time they glued a brain to a tray. It didn't matter than the brain was fake. She thought it was real at the time.

Oh, but this was unacceptable.

She was a professional, and being one required a certain, a–a certain flair—a–a certain— “Oh! Oh, crap, don’t get up, Mister Corpse,” she cried, startled to see him rise and perch on the side of the autopsy table.

Ahh, but, Mister Corpse wasn't listening.

“I see dead people,” Ginger breathed. “I don’t see live people on my exam table. I never see live people on my exam table. They don’t blink their eyes. They don’t breathe. They don’t sit up.”

 Except for this one time—
RETURN TO TUESDAY'S TALES

TUESDAY TALES WIP!

Hello Readers,
This week's prompt is this glorious full moon. Continuing excerpts from last week's TT and one of my WIPs, let's find out what's happening to Ginger Gray in the infamous Gray Mortuary. Muhahahahah!



EXCERPT:

Kennadee poked her tongue out at her. “Spoilsport. Don’t you ever like to just have fun?”

“Now don’t look at me like that, Ginger Snap,” Kadence said, her pale green eyes sparkling with silent laughter.

Her sisters always called her Ginger Snap when they went into defensive mode.

“We couldn’t help seeing his bundle when we cut off his clothes,” Kadence continued. “I mean, there it was in plain view, big as a sausage roll.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “Good grief. Just give me report and get out of here, both of you.”

Kennadee snickered. “We couldn’t miss it, sis. Honest.”

“He’s dead,” Ginger said, quickly losing patience. “Why would you want to look at a dead dick? It certainly won’t do either one of you a bit of good.”

“Don’t be gross,” Kennadee replied. “We were discreet and respectful, but the towel slipped off and there it was, big as life.”

Ginger snatched the clipboard from Kadence. “I doubt it was big as life since he has no blood flow to it, or, if you want to get technical, no life at all.”

“I’d sure love to see it when he did have blood flow,” Kennadee stated, slipping off her lab coat.

“Me, too,” Kadence added copying her twin and removing her lab jacket as well. They hung their white coats on a rack in the corner, grabbed their purses, and headed to the double doors. “Have a good night,” Kadence called.

Yes, have a good night,” Kennadee echoed. “And thank you for coming in and working the rest of our shift. We’ll say hello to everyone for you at the Halloween party.”

“Yeah, right,” Ginger mumbled with a touch of sarcasm. "Halloween and a full moon. Great combinations."

Return to Tuesday Tales

BACK LIST SERIES BLOG HOP!

Good Morning Readers,
Welcome to the Back List Blog hop. Sorry I'm running late posting...Something always seems to go wrong at the last minute and for some weird reason, my blog page wouldn't open for me. But I'm here now and here is my back list from my Winslow Witches of Salem Series. Something nice to know--Book 1, Witches Brew, is now free and can be found at Amazon.com// For every reader who leaves a comment, I'll drop your name in the witch's hat and hold a drawing later on for a pdf of Witch's Heart, book 2 in the series.

BLURB/WITCH’S BREW/BOOK ONE/SHAY

Witches, wizards and magic!

Saylym Winslow regains forgotten magical powers, but is determined to ignore them. No way is she a witch; magic brings nothing but trouble. But when Talon, Waken Prince and assassin of witches is assigned to terminate Saylym by stealing her soul, she discovers being a real, spell-casting witch is only the beginning of her problems.
Talon is enchanted by Saylym's beauty and charm and refuses to do his duty. He is given a choice by the powerful Waken Guild: Handfast with the trouble making witch to keep her in line or they will send Drayke, the most ruthless waken assassin, to hunt her down.
Sparks fly in this bewitching battle of the sexes-witch-style.

BLURB: WITCH’S HEART/BOOK TWO/SHAY

Journey into a world where magic rules and death is the penalty for mistakes-return to the kingdom of Ru-Noc, where witches, wizards, and warlocks dwell. . .
Hannah Miller is starting over-new life, new location, and the grand opening of the Sugar 'N' Spice bakery with her best friend, Kirrah Walker. But Hannah soon discovers Sanctuary is not small town America. Trapped in a world of magic where humans are considered aliens-Hannah soon becomes the target of a waken assassin.
The male witch, Sage, is sent to terminate Hannah, the impertinent human who has dared to enter their sacred realm. Sage usually complies with the guild's orders, but he faces this assignment with dread. He hasn't forgotten what took place at the Salem witch trials in 1692 and has vowed to avoid all mortals-until he sees Hannah for the first time.
Caught up in the immortal conflict sweeping across Ru-Noc, the star-crossed lovers wage a different kind of war that set off more sparks than a witch's wand. . .
Fall under the spell of Witch’s Heart-where Sage and Hannah discover love has a magic all its own . . .

Back to the Hop here! //http://www.secretcravingspublishing.blogspot.com/

http://www.tabithashay.com

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_12?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=tabitha%20shay&sprefix=tabitha+shay%2Cstripbooks%2C461&rh=i%3Astripbooks%2Ck%3Atabitha%20shay

A SNIPPET FROM A WIP FOR TUESDAY TALES

Hi Readers,
I hope you'll enjoy this snippet from a WIP I hope to have published by 2015.

www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com

Kadence tore off her gloves and dropped them in the trash receptacle in the nearby corner and turned to face her. “He had no I.D. Some homeless person called the police complaining that a stranger stole his cardboard box house. The body was found behind a dumpster in the alley in said box, an old blanket tossed over him. I couldn't determine how long he’d been dead because his liver temperature was ice cold, as if he’d been in a freezer. There’s no apparent cause of death…so far.” She paused, then grinned. “You need to check out his package, sis.”

Ginger frowned. “His package? Where…” She glanced around looking for a wrapped gift.

Kadence giggled. “Not that kind of package. That kind.” She pointed to the center of the draped body. She shook her fingers as if they were scorched. “Wow!” she mouthed.

“For God’s sake,” Ginger snapped. “I hope you two haven’t been inappropriate. Corpses deserve their privacy and respect just like the living.” Knowing her sisters, especially these two, one could never be sure. Daredevils to the tips of their Reeboks, they were also big pranksters. She couldn't count the times they’d pulled hoaxes on her, leaving her with the proverbial egg on her face.
Follow this link please to read more snippets from other SCP authors.
www.tuesdaytales1.blogspot.com

Paranormal Romance Blog Hop!

Welcome to the Secret Cravings Paranormal Blog Hop. I'm giving a pdf of Witch's Touch, Book 6 in the series and my latest release to some lucky commenter. Be sure and leave a way for me to contact you in your comment. Game: Tell what your winter's been like in your corner of the world in a few, simple words and I'll drop your name in the witch's hat. Drawing will be Sunday night and winner announced on Monday. Good luck!

BLURB:

Death takes an unscheduled holiday…

Giver of Life—Nyra Winters has two abilities that no witch before her has ever possessed—the power to heal and restore life. However, her constant interference in Death’s plans makes her a target of the angry god, King Titan, ruler of the Underworld.
      

Seeker of Death—Dym Satarius, Prince of Death, is sent to the magical realm of Ru-Noc to collect Nyra Winters. Devoid of all emotion, Dym believes this assignment will be no different than any other—collect the witch’s soul and return to hell—job done—but something goes terribly wrong and he is stranded in Nyra’s world without his powers or the ability to return to his realm.

Witch’s Touch―Where life and Death collide…

Don't forget to use this link back to SCP so you can check out what the other authors are posting.

http://secretcravingspublishing.blogspot.com/