Pages

Tuesday, April 25, 2023

April Vignette - Aries the Zodian by Linda Mooney

Aries

              The two young men made sure to park far enough off the main road so as not to attract any undue attention, especially that of the highway patrol or local sheriff department.

            “Are you sure about this?” the one sitting in the passenger seat questioned.

           “It’s a sure thing,” his buddy replied, tucking a large hunting knife between the waistband of his jeans and his belt. “You take the tire iron, just in case.”

            “In case o’ what? We don’t need the gun?”

            “Naw. If we fire that thing, everybody around here’ll hear it and call the police. No, we’re gonna sneak up real nice and polite like, and confront one of these older couples, and ask ‘em to hand over all their money. We’ll show ‘em our knife and all to prove we mean business. That should scare the crap out of them so that they’ll happily give us what they got. Hell, if they’re isolated enough, I can go in and search their trailer to see what else I might be able to sell off for a little extra coin. Then we come back here. Ten, fifteen minutes tops. Easy schmeasy.”

            The younger man shook his head. “It still sounds iffy to me, Clarkie. Besides, how do you know these people got money?”

            His buddy gave him an exasperated look. “Listen, Bud, anybody who’s got enough dough to buy one of those big, expensive travel trailers is gonna have some spare cash on ‘em for emergencies. We rough ‘em up a little bit, put the fear into ‘em, and they’ll hand over everything they got just to get rid of us.”

            Reaching into the small black bag they’d brought along, Clarkie pulled out two ski masks and handed one to his companion. “Here. Put this on. Those people won’t be able to identify us, and they damn sure won’t know what kind of car we’re driving. Plus we can move faster than them. Just remember. When I give the word, that’s when we run back here.”

            “And we’re only gonna hit one old couple tonight?”

            “Just for starters. After we see how it goes, and how much we get out of ‘em, we might do two the next time.”

            “What next time?” Bud queried.

            “When I say it’s the next time,” Clarkie snapped. “Now get your mask on and come on!”

            They trudged through the brush as they advanced toward the RV park. Night had fallen some time ago, but the park was lit up from the outdoor lanterns the people were using.

            Clarkie and Bud knew this park inside and out, which was why they headed for the farthest end. The “sweet spot” as it was referred to by the locals. There was only one way in and out of that corner, and only one trailer could park in there. Being that isolated provided the best privacy, with the nearest neighbor a good fifty or so feet away. With lots of trees and bushes planted around to provide more privacy, the park gave each visitor a sense of space without feeling crowded.

            It was a perfect place to pull an innocent little heist without the fear of having others watching. The two young men were hoping the luck of the draw would give them a couple of old farts who wouldn’t be able to defend themselves.

            Luck was indeed with them tonight. There weren’t that many people on vacation this time of year. Maybe a dozen at the most. The ones here were either full-time retired, self-employed to where they weren’t tied to an office, or taking an early vacation.

Clarkie spotted their target and pointed them out to Bud. The older, gray-haired couple sitting in lounge chairs around the open firepit were perfect.

            “You ready?” he whispered. When his cohort nodded, he pulled out the knife and stepped out from the bushes.

            The older couple spotted them immediately and got to their feet. “What do you want?” the guy demanded.

            Clarkie held up the knife, twirling it a little to be sure the couple noticed it. “We ain’t gonna hurt you. We just want all your money, then we’ll be on our way.”

            Bud hefted the tire iron. “Don’t scream. Don’t yell. Let’s keep this transaction easy. Just hand over your cash.”

            “No credit cards and no traveler’s checks,” Clarkie specified. “We don’t want none of that crap.”

            “Why don’t you two kids just mosey along?” the old guy suggested in a calmer tone of voice. “Go back to where you came from.”

            “Not until we get what we came for,” Clarkie stated.

            The old woman held up her hands. “We don’t have any spare cash. Well, maybe forty dollars or so. We intended on going to an ATM to get more tomorrow, but most of what we’ve been buying, we’ve put on our credit cards.”

            Clarkie gave her an incredulous look. “Are you trying to tell me you ain’t got a wad of cash on you right now?” He jerked a finger toward the nice motor home sitting behind them. “Or inside that mobile palace of yours?”

            “I’m saying it’s best if you and your hoodlum friend leave right now,” the old guy warned.

            “Or what? What ‘cha gonna do to us, Gramps?” Clarkie made a couple of jabbing motions with the knife. “You think you’re faster than I am? You think you two old farts can outmaneuver us? Huh?”

            “Last warning, pup,” the old man announced.

            Bud gave a bark of laughter. “Pup! Hahaha! Ya hear that? Grandpa thinks—”

            He stared in shocked disbelief, mouth hanging open, as the two old people began to shrink. Literally shrink, down to the ground. But they didn’t melt. Well, they did. Sort of. They began to change, like an invisible hand was reshaping them into…

            Into…

            He was struck squarely in the groin. The impact made him drop the tire iron and reach for the impact site. As he cried out in pain, he was rammed again. This time in the belly. Hard.

            The animal jerked its head upward, catching him under the jaw with its giant curved horns. Bud heard his teeth clash, and more, brighter pain flashed through him. He fell to the ground, landing on his knees as he fought for breath. From the corner of his eye, he saw Clarkie similarly injured. In front of him, an identical creature kept its head lowered, ready to attack again.

            Lifting his face, Bud stared in disbelief at the animal now smiling down at him.

            “You were told to leave. Disobey, and you’ll be punished. Are you ready to leave now?” the animal questioned in the old man’s voice.

            A talking sheep, Bud’s numbed brain noted.

            “You can go f—” He didn’t get the chance to finish before the animal lowered its head and butted him squarely in the face.

 * * *

            “They turned into sheep!” the ringleader insisted as the sheriff’s deputy shoved him into the back of his patrol car. “They turned into sheep, or goats, or whatever those animals are with the big fat horns that curl around, and they attacked us!”

“Those are rams,” the deputy clarified.

“Yeah! That’s what they did! They rammed us!”

           “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the officer replied and shut the door.

         Ashton watched as the second man was lifted into the back of the ambulance. Shannon came up beside him and slid an arm around her husband’s waist.

            “Mr. Ewing?”

            They turned around as the deputy approached. “Yes?” Ashton inquired.

          “Are you sure you and your wife are okay? I can have EMS check you out before they leave,” the officer suggested.

            “No, thank you. We’re all right. A bit shook up, but otherwise we’re fine.”

            The deputy shook his head. “Sorry you had to go through that. Wild pigs, eh? I’ve heard of them attacking people in the past, but I wasn’t aware of any in this vicinity. I’ll put out a notice that there must be a herd of them roaming around in this area.” The man snorted. “I don’t know what those two kids are on, but the older one insists it was sheep who attacked them, not pigs.” The man’s smile grew wider. “And he claims it was you two who turned into those sheep.”

            Ashton chuckled. “Those must be some good drugs they’re on.”

            Both men laughed at the remark.

            Shannon tugged on her husband’s shirt sleeve. “Can I go inside the camper where it’s warmer?”

            Ashton turned to the deputy, who nodded.

            “We’re done here,” the officer told them.

            “Are you going to need us to come in and give a report or something?”

            “If you don’t mind, before you leave town.”

            “How’s about tomorrow morning?”

            “That’ll be perfect.”

            “What’s going to happen to those two young men?” Ashton inquired, indicating the medical vehicle pulling away.

            “Well, considering they threatened you, and they both were armed, Judge Silsby isn’t going to go easy on them. Both of those young men already have a nice little history with law enforcement.” The deputy nodded again. “You have a good rest of the night.”

            “Same to you, Deputy,” Ashton called out to the departing figure. When he was certain the man was gone, he went to join his wife inside the camper.

            “Is he gone?” she asked when he came through the door.

            “Yep.”

            She sighed. “It’s a shame those two boys had to be taught a lesson.”

            Ashton chuckled. “Maybe next time they’ll think twice about attacking older people again.”

            Shannon smiled, a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “Isn’t that the truth? Even if they think about it, they’ll wonder if those people are Aries like us, and can shift into their other selves.”

            He patted her on the shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Come on. Let’s call it a night. After that little skirmish, I’m beat.”

            “It’s because we’re not used to that much excitement in one night,” his wife commented as she followed him into the rear bedroom. “I told you, we need to start exercising to some of those online videos.”

            “Let’s talk about it in the morning!” her husband declared.

            “That’s what you always say!” she retorted, only to be answered with more laughter. Grinning, Shannon said no more about it for the rest of the night, but she’d definitely bring it up again come morning.

            After all, that was what wives were supposed to do, right?

Linda's Website   

Monday, April 24, 2023

HERE BE NEWS for Monday April 24, 2023

 




 Monday April 24, 2023 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:



Wednesday April 19, 2023: PG Forte offers a snippet from Dancing in the Dark an upcoming vampire novella.












LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

LA Love Lessons Series

https://books2read.com/u/bpzWKk

She's thinking fling, he's thinking forever.

Sexy former film star Claire Calhoun is used to having her pick of studly young men. Now that she and Derek have called it quits, however, the actress-turned-entrepreneur is feeling vulnerable. After one mojito too many at a party one night, she decides it would be fun to try something new-in this case, Mike Sherman, her staid accountant and long-time fan.

Claire has been Mike's fantasy since the first time he saw her bare it all for the camera. Now that she's in his bed he'll do whatever's necessary to keep her there. But he's not a stalker, right? He's just a devoted fan.


EXCERPT:

         I was surprised to find Claire waiting for me when I got home from work Friday evening. Surprised and more than a little confused by her care-free smile, by the relaxed way she leaned against the side of her little white Lexus convertible, by... Oh, hell, let’s face it. I’d been nothing but confused for three full weeks now.
        The only difference was that now I was angry, too. You don’t know what the woman wants, I reminded myself. Could be she’s just toying with you.

Frowning cautiously, I got out of my car and walked over to where she stood waiting for me. She was dressed all in white—to match her car, I supposed—in a snug, white tank top that made it almost impossible not to stare at her chest and slim, white pants that molded to her body and ensured that her breasts were only the first things you noticed.

“Hello, lover,” she said cheerfully. “Miss me?”

I had, of course. But there was no way I’d admit it. “Claire. What are you doing here?”

Her lips pursed in a little moue as she slid her hands up my chest and over my shoulders. “Now, what kind of greeting is that?” she pouted, dismissing my query in turn. My hands found their way to her hips—and I’d swear it was of their own volition—even as she locked hers behind my neck. Then she hit me with her best come-hither gaze, her softest murmur, her most inviting smile. “Well?”

Fool that I am, I caved, giving her what I knew she wanted, kissing her for all I was worth. My fingers tightened on her flesh and, at their slightest urging, she willingly canted her hips into mine.

Her lips parted, inviting me in, and I was unable to resist. I deepened the kiss, plunging my tongue into her mouth, thrilling to the sweet play of her nails along my nape. A growl emerged from my throat and I tugged her closer, banding her against me. Another moment and I think I would have taken her right there in the drive.

“Mmm. That’s better,” she purred, smiling slyly as she disengaged.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated stubbornly, when I could speak again.

Claire sighed. “Is that all you can think to say?” Twisting around, she reached into the car behind her. “Here.” She lifted my briefcase from behind her seat and presented it to me. “If you must know, I thought you might want this back.”

My hands reached automatically to take it. “Thank you,” I muttered, partially in dismay. “You didn’t have to do that.” In fact, I kind of wished she hadn’t as I’d planned on using its retrieval as a pretext for seeing her on Monday.

“Well, of course I didn’t have to, Michael,” she replied, arching an eyebrow at me. “Since when have I ever done that? I do things because I want to, don’t you know that by now? Anyway, here.” Reaching back into the car, she pulled out two medium-sized, brown paper bags. “Take these, too.”

The bags, surprisingly hefty for their size, were warm and smelled faintly of garlic. However, their folded-over, stapled-down tops, which seemed to present no difficulty for Claire, offered precious little for my fingers to clutch. “What is all this?” I grumbled, juggling bags and briefcase as I struggled for a better hold on them.

“Dinner,” she replied, already turning back to the car once again. This time the back seat gave up a large, Coach tote bag. “I hope you like Italian?”

Saturday, April 22, 2023

Bring it Back(List) Let Me Count the Ways by PG Forte

 Here's a snippet from Let Me Count the Ways--the book I'm featuring at today's party at the Worth the Wait Seasoned Romance Reader's Group. Click the link below to join the group--and the fun!

https://www.facebook.com/groups/worththewaitseasonedromancereaders


LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

LA Love Lessons Series

https://books2read.com/u/bpzWKk

She's thinking fling, he's thinking forever.

Sexy former film star Claire Calhoun is used to having her pick of studly young men. Now that she and Derek have called it quits, however, the actress-turned-entrepreneur is feeling vulnerable. After one mojito too many at a party one night, she decides it would be fun to try something new-in this case, Mike Sherman, her staid accountant and long-time fan.

Claire has been Mike's fantasy since the first time he saw her bare it all for the camera. Now that she's in his bed he'll do whatever's necessary to keep her there. But he's not a stalker, right? He's just a devoted fan.


EXCERPT:

         I was surprised to find Claire waiting for me when I got home from work Friday evening. Surprised and more than a little confused by her care-free smile, by the relaxed way she leaned against the side of her little white Lexus convertible, by... Oh, hell, let’s face it. I’d been nothing but confused for three full weeks now.
        The only difference was that now I was angry, too. You don’t know what the woman wants, I reminded myself. Could be she’s just toying with you.

Frowning cautiously, I got out of my car and walked over to where she stood waiting for me. She was dressed all in white—to match her car, I supposed—in a snug, white tank top that made it almost impossible not to stare at her chest and slim, white pants that molded to her body and ensured that her breasts were only the first things you noticed.

“Hello, lover,” she said cheerfully. “Miss me?”

I had, of course. But there was no way I’d admit it. “Claire. What are you doing here?”

Her lips pursed in a little moue as she slid her hands up my chest and over my shoulders. “Now, what kind of greeting is that?” she pouted, dismissing my query in turn. My hands found their way to her hips—and I’d swear it was of their own volition—even as she locked hers behind my neck. Then she hit me with her best come-hither gaze, her softest murmur, her most inviting smile. “Well?”

Fool that I am, I caved, giving her what I knew she wanted, kissing her for all I was worth. My fingers tightened on her flesh and, at their slightest urging, she willingly canted her hips into mine.

Her lips parted, inviting me in, and I was unable to resist. I deepened the kiss, plunging my tongue into her mouth, thrilling to the sweet play of her nails along my nape. A growl emerged from my throat and I tugged her closer, banding her against me. Another moment and I think I would have taken her right there in the drive.

“Mmm. That’s better,” she purred, smiling slyly as she disengaged.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated stubbornly, when I could speak again.

Claire sighed. “Is that all you can think to say?” Twisting around, she reached into the car behind her. “Here.” She lifted my briefcase from behind her seat and presented it to me. “If you must know, I thought you might want this back.”

My hands reached automatically to take it. “Thank you,” I muttered, partially in dismay. “You didn’t have to do that.” In fact, I kind of wished she hadn’t as I’d planned on using its retrieval as a pretext for seeing her on Monday.

“Well, of course I didn’t have to, Michael,” she replied, arching an eyebrow at me. “Since when have I ever done that? I do things because I want to, don’t you know that by now? Anyway, here.” Reaching back into the car, she pulled out two medium-sized, brown paper bags. “Take these, too.”

The bags, surprisingly hefty for their size, were warm and smelled faintly of garlic. However, their folded-over, stapled-down tops, which seemed to present no difficulty for Claire, offered precious little for my fingers to clutch. “What is all this?” I grumbled, juggling bags and briefcase as I struggled for a better hold on them.

“Dinner,” she replied, already turning back to the car once again. This time the back seat gave up a large, Coach tote bag. “I hope you like Italian?”

Wednesday, April 19, 2023

WIP-It Wednesday for April 19, 2023

 PG Forte: Here's a snippet from one of my current WIPs. Dancing in the Dark is scheduled for release in September in connection with Rejected by the Immortal, A Limited Edition Vampire Rejected Mates Collection (available for preorder: https://books2read.com/rejectedimmortal).


“Pierre, can you speak?” Armand asked as he helped ease the other man down to sit on the stoop. He crouched before Pierre and reached for the collar of his coat, fearing what he would see, but needing to know the extent of the damage.  “Can you breathe? Talk to me. How badly are you hurt?” 

“Armand?” Pierre opened his eyes and peered groggily at him. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“I don’t understand,” Armand muttered. He sat back on his heels and stared in confusion at Pierre’s undamaged throat. There was no blood, no wounds, no marks of any kind, just perfectly pink skin, a little damp, and slightly flushed with heat, but completely intact.  Armand stroked his fingers over the surface. "C'est impossible."

“Stop that!” Pierre batted Armand’s hands away. “Are you mad? Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Your neck. I-I saw it. You were hurt.” 

“Hurt?” Pierre repeated, struggling to stand, but waving off Armand’s assistance. “What are you going on about? I’m perfectly fine.”

Armand rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can see how fine you are. I'm sure you always collapse on your way home. Tell me, who was that…that man who was here with you just now?”

 Pierre frowned. “Nonsense. I did not…collapse. I was merely— Wait, what man? Who are you talking about?”

“The man who just left, of course. Who else?”

 “Why are you bothering me with all these questions?” Pierre shrugged as he put his clothes back in order. “How am I to know who you’re talking about? I only just got here myself. Was it a vagrant?”

“I'm not judging you, Pierre. I promise. I have no interest in what you do, or with whom you do it. It makes no difference to me at all. But I saw you—both of you—here, together, in the doorway. Is he... Do you know him well?”

Va chier,” Pierre said with a sneer. “What a very sordid imagination you have. I—” He broke off abruptly, swaying dangerously on his feet. “Tabarnak. I don’t feel very well.”

 “You are hurt.” Armand grabbed Pierre's arm to steady him. “I knew it! What did he do to you?” 

“Idiot.” Pierre pulled away again. “No one ‘did’ anything to me. I'm just a bit drunk, I think. I… Yes, that’s right. I stopped at a bar tonight, if you must know, on my way home. I suppose I had one too many. A regrettable mistake, but one that does happen, occasionally.”

Armand frowned at the absurdity. “Stopped at a bar? Bah. You did no such thing. Why, we've only just come from the theater. You were no more than a few minutes ahead of me. Besides, there’s no place open within several blocks of here.”  

“Well, you would know about that, I suppose.” Pierre pushed away from the building and took a few staggering steps along the sidewalk. “And far better than I. But what difference does it make? The fact that I’m feeling a little unsteady is proof that I must have had more to drink than was good for me. So, obviously, I had to have stopped somewhere along the way. N'est-ce pas? The fact that I don’t recall where, exactly, merely underscores the point. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get home to my wife.”

“Good idea,” Armand said as he fell into step beside him. “I’ll walk you there.”

Pierre glared at him. “Piss off, Renaud. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Armand shrugged. “Too bad for you. T'ant pis por toi. Because you have one all the same.”

The trek to Pierre’s house was uneventful—if tiresome, due in large part to Pierre's continued crankiness. Armand was tempted more than once to leave the annoying bastard to find his own way home. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Awareness crawled across his skin, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being followed. His nerves had him jumping at shadows and glancing over his shoulders to the point where Pierre snapped at him, demanding that he stop being so twitchy.

“And you’re absolutely certain you don’t recall anything that happened to you after you left the theater?” Armand asked, returning once more to the subject. “Anything unusual, I mean?”

Pierre snorted in amusement. “Why, yes, now that you mention it. It seems there's this pervert who's become fixated on me—quite without reason. He approached me on the street tonight and would not leave me alone.”

“You've remembered something? Bon. What did he say?”

“Oh, some absurd tale.” Pierre shrugged dismissively. “First, he insisted I was injured in some way, and that he was coming to my aid. Next, he claimed that I’d been attacked by some fantastical creature, a vampire, if you can imagine. And then he insisted on accompanying me home.”

Crosseur,” Armand grumbled crossly. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re hardly my type.”

Vraiment? Well, that’s a relief. And here I thought everyone was your type?”

 

Once Pierre was safely home, Armand hailed a cab to take him back to his own apartment. It was an unusual expense—and one he found very hard to justify, given the unsettled state of his career. But he incurred it all the same. The streets didn’t feel safe tonight.

Over the next few days, Armand continued to keep a close eye on Pierre. But rather than show any ill-effects, he seemed stronger and more fit than ever before. Could this be the result of his encounter with the vampire, Armand wondered. And if so, was it perhaps possible that the creature who’d not only healed the wounds on Pierre’s neck, but left him in better shape than he’d found him, could perform a similar miracle with Armand’s injured leg? 

If a little bloodletting would save his career, Armand was all for it. 

With that in mind, he began to take his time walking home at night, intentionally loitering at all the darkest and most deserted intersections, even issuing softly-voiced invitations. “I know you’re out there, bloodsucker. Come and show yourself.” But though he occasionally felt that same, eerie sensation of being watched, no one took him up on his offer. He never caught another glimpse of his mysterious stranger until the night of New Year’s Eve.

Tuesday, April 18, 2023

New! THE RENTAL, Book 2, Contemporary Sci-Fi Romance by Linda Mooney

New!

THE RENTAL
Book 2
Contemporary Sci-Fi Romance
By Linda Mooney
Word Count: 28.8K
$2.99 e / $9.99 p

Megan Kolt has been trapped, a prisoner in her own body, for the past six years. Her husband, Turner Kolt, has watched her slowly waste away in a coma, but he’s been assured her brain is functioning and she still has her senses. When offered a chance for his wife to live vicariously through someone else through a fairly new service from Rall Rentals, he wants to let his wife experience…something. Anything.

Wanting to use her own life to help others, Jory Wittenhouse applies for the Rall Rentals program to allow others who are less fortunate to live through her. After vigorous testing, she’s approve and given a special case, not the usual disabled or handicapped client. The renter is completely comatose and paralyzed, but still reacts to stimuli. She’s told the woman’s family wants her to spend whatever time she has left being happy, and Jory wants to give her that.

Turner has his reservations, and questions are raised. He proposes the opportunity to meet the rental, if she’s willing, to put his own mind at ease, under the guise of letting Megan see his face one last time. He wasn’t expecting her to be perfect. For Megan, that is.

He wants Megan to experience what it’s like to be alive again, to be loved, and that’s why he’s attracted to Jory. Because Megan is in there somewhere, or so he’s trying to convince himself to ease the guilt. But as much as he wants Megan to live again, Turner isn’t living himself.

Time and love will make that decision for him.

Warning! Contains chicken parmesan, a rare exception, Taco Tuesday, four little words, a man whose love and patience knew no bounds, and a woman who found herself loving a man she knew she couldn't have.


Monday, April 17, 2023

HERE BE NEWS for Monday April 17, 2023

 




 Monday April 17, 2023 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:



Thursday April 13, 2023: PG Forte shows off some new covers in Comic Capers.

Friday April 14, 2023: Deborah Bailey offers some Advice for New Writers.


                       


The Worth the Wait Seasoned Romance Readers group is hosting their second annual anniversary party this Saturday! Join the group to join the fun! Link below.





                   



THE RENTAL

Book 2

Sci-Fi/Contemporary Fantasy Romance

Word Count: 28.8K

 

https://lindamooney.com/TheRental.htm

 

Megan Kolt has been trapped, a prisoner in her own body, for the past six years. Her husband, Turner Kolt, has watched her slowly waste away in a coma, but he’s been assured her brain is functioning and she still has her senses. When offered a chance for his wife to live vicariously through someone else through a fairly new service from Rall Rentals, he wants to let his wife experience…something. Anything.

 

Wanting to use her own life to help others, Jory Wittenhouse applies for the Rall Rentals program to allow others who are less fortunate to live through her. After vigorous testing, she’s approve and given a special case, not the usual disabled or handicapped client. The renter is completely comatose and paralyzed, but still reacts to stimuli. She’s told the woman’s family wants her to spend whatever time she has left being happy, and Jory wants to give her that.

 

Turner has his reservations, and questions are raised. He proposes the opportunity to meet the rental, if she’s willing, to put his own mind at ease, under the guise of letting Megan see his face one last time. He wasn’t expecting her to be perfect. For Megan, that is.

 

He wants Megan to experience what it’s like to be alive again, to be loved, and that’s why he’s attracted to Jory. Because Megan is in there somewhere, or so he’s trying to convince himself to ease the guilt. But as much as he wants Megan to live again, Turner isn’t living himself.

 

Time and love will make that decision for him.

 

 

Warning! Contains chicken parmesan, a rare exception, Taco Tuesday, a man whose love and patience knew no bounds, and a woman who found herself loving a man she knew she couldn't have.

Friday, April 14, 2023

Advice for New Writers

 

Years ago, my cousin introduced me to a friend of hers who was a professional writer. When I asked him for advice he said, write every day. Though I appreciated it, I wasn't sure how it would help me. I was already writing everyday. Was there anything else I should be doing?

Sure, writing every day is important. But if you don't it doesn't mean you can't be a good writer. So, what do I recommend?

For one thing, read books (and short stories) in your preferred genre and books in other genres. Reading in other genres exposes you to different modes of storytelling.

Read books by other types of authors, whether that means reading different races, cultures, genders, etc. You'll get different perspectives and points of view.

Take writing classes when you can – and I'm not only saying that because I present writing workshops!

When writers are starting out, they might not realize the difference between an original idea and an idea that has become a cliché. Another reason why reading is so important.

Be willing to take criticism (when it is constructive) and be willing to evolve. As you learn, you'll become a better writer and you'll learn to trust yourself.

If you want to be a professional writer, understand that being a professional writer is a business. Whether you want to be traditionally published or indie published, you'll have to find a balance between the business and creative sides. 

The bottom line?  Express your creativity, share your stories and enjoy the process. 

 

Thursday, April 13, 2023

Comic Capers

 I've been playing around with covers--a sure sign that the writing's not going so well. I had created covers for two stories that I'm currently working on that were in-line with the the first two covers in that series. BUT the last story I published in the series had a very different look--a cartoon vibe. And I've recently decided that I'll be publishing that story and these two new ones as a boxed set once they're done. So that got me wondering whether or not I wanted to do more cartoon-like covers for the two new ones, as well. 

Here are the old and new covers. I'd love to know what you think!

The OG Covers

First attempts


The Troublemaker




 New Look




Hedging My Bets









Monday, April 10, 2023

HERE BE NEWS for Monday April 10, 2023

 




 Monday April 10, 2023 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:



Thursday April 6, 2023: Ouch! Condolences to Nicole Luiken who broke her hand this week. 




During the month of April, you can get the e-book of this Paranormal Fantasy Romance for just 99c! But only on my website! Just use Discount Code Word: LUPAN


FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS
Paranormal Fantasy Romance
by Linda Mooney
Word Count:  75.9K
$4.99 e / $9.99 p / $19.95 a

Croat was a Lupan, one of the half-man, half-beast creatures long thought to be extinct or fabricated from fairy tales. Lupan were folklore, nothing more than a myth.

Tora was a Sensitive. Her kind really existed, and normal people feared Sensitives because it was common knowledge that all Sensitives were evil and practiced the dark magicks.

Captured and thrown together inside Baron Agrino’s dungeon, they discovered a connection between them that defied all reason, and a love that transcended all boundaries.

But is their love strong enough to stop the baron from what he’ll do with every Lupan he plans to capture? Or, worse, what he’ll do with Tora once he learns what she is?

Warning!  Contains torture, imprisonment, severe beatings, nasty bad guys, public nudity, molten wax, old wives' tales, forest folk, bad horsemanship, lots of pissed off townspeople, and two people fighting their fears for the sake of their love.

Excerpt and Buy Links

Saturday, April 8, 2023

Bring It Back(List) - FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS, a Paranormal Fantasy Romance by Linda Mooney

During the month of April, you can get the e-book of this Paranormal Fantasy Romance for just 99c! But only on my website! Just use Discount Code Word: LUPAN


FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS
Paranormal Fantasy Romance
by Linda Mooney
Word Count:  75.9K
$4.99 e / $9.99 p / $19.95 a

Croat was a Lupan, one of the half-man, half-beast creatures long thought to be extinct or fabricated from fairy tales. Lupan were folklore, nothing more than a myth.

Tora was a Sensitive. Her kind really existed, and normal people feared Sensitives because it was common knowledge that all Sensitives were evil and practiced the dark magicks.

Captured and thrown together inside Baron Agrino’s dungeon, they discovered a connection between them that defied all reason, and a love that transcended all boundaries.

But is their love strong enough to stop the baron from what he’ll do with every Lupan he plans to capture? Or, worse, what he’ll do with Tora once he learns what she is?

Warning!  Contains torture, imprisonment, severe beatings, nasty bad guys, public nudity, molten wax, old wives' tales, forest folk, bad horsemanship, lots of pissed off townspeople, and two people fighting their fears for the sake of their love.

Excerpt and Buy Links

Thursday, April 6, 2023

I Broke My Hand

 Okay, this is going to be brief, because I suck at one-handed typing:

Yes, I broke a bone in my hand, my right hand, slipping on ice covered by a snow flurry. (I think a third of my fellow sufferers in the ER that day had a similar story).

So... 

HAPPY  EASTER! (to all who celebrate)

HAPPY PASSOVER (to all who celebrate)

and

HAPPY  SPRING (to all in the northern hemisphere)

May the sunshine keep all the sidewalks ice-free.