Reviews and Releases

Soul Stone, my latest release as Elyssa Edwards, received it's first review recently. I'm happy with it.

"SOUL STONE is an intriguing blend of paranormal romance and suspense...An engaging and sensual tale, check out SOUL STONE." -Jennifer Bishop, RRTErotic

Blurb:

Soul Stone
Elyssa Edwards

He is physical perfection. He is sex personified. He is an incubus. All his life Tarris has followed the rules that would keep him from transforming into the dark soulless predator who fed on the sexual energies of women, draining them to madness or to death. But now that he can no longer feed in a safe and controlled way, he faces a choice: hunt or starve. Callista is quiet and reserved. Her restrained exterior hides an astonishing passion and vivid imagination that has captured him. Who knew that a creature that had no soul could love a woman so deeply? Tarris must now find a way to control the change he feels coming and defeat the hunter who pursues him, obsessed with possessing Callista and destroying the incubus.

February 19th, Circle of Wolves will be released.

Circle of Wolves
Jacquéline Roth

War. His world stands on the precipice and he is the best chance to stop it? All his life his secret has been protected by his family and friends. They’ve all protected him from those who would have seen him tagged and caged like an animal. Or worse, exterminated. Now that very secret makes the earth mage Evan Forester the perfect choice for this mission. Find the Wolves and convince them to form an alliance with the mage world. But what he finds among the Wolves is more than he ever dreamed possible for himself. The very nature he is forced to subdue and hide, they would welcome and celebrate. Even more, among these people he finds the one his soul calls “mate”. Still the awful truth remains, if the alliance fails, he will be forced to choose between the place he calls home and the one woman he loves and who loves all that he is, wolf and man.

This is part of the same world that the Jewels of Ursus series was written in. It is the next book in the series that started with Measure of Healing.

Z has a cold. He seriously hates having his little nose suctioned. According to the doctor he's 10lb 15oz and 24" long. He's growing so fast!

It's a Conspiracy

I’m going to offer a contest to celebrate the end of the school year and the beginning of my usual writing spurt. Summer is when I get most of my writing done. So, I will put the names of everyone who responds to my blog this week into a hat and draw. I’ll give the winner a copy of Seeing Me and a deck of the Ellora’s Cave Silver Screen playing cards.

For some reason that I cannot begin to comprehend, today was Drive Up Jae’s Tailpipe Day in traffic. Every other driver was running up on me in traffic until their headlights disappeared. And I am not a slow driver. I am, in fact, one of those people who believes that the speed limit is more of a general suggestion. But I do not tailgate. It is not only dangerous it is just bad manners. Especially in rush hour traffic.

School is almost out. Three more days of kiddies. Therefore today must have been declared Drive Mrs. Roth Crazy Day as well. It seems as if everyone under the age of 15 has forgotten their common sense and really has no clue where they left it. As if today of all days the rules were suddenly not going to apply to them. Sorry, Jim-Bob, it doesn’t work that way. I swore if I had to tell D to sit down one more time in the 50 minutes he spends in my room he was not going to make it to his next period class. No I’m not threatening bodily harm to a child. I don’t need to. I have a healthy supply of office referrals and I’m not afraid to use them.

And can someone tell me when it became acceptable for the younger generation to toss the word “fag” at each other a dozen times a day? Why do you need to have it explained to you that unless you are in Great Britain and are asking to borrow a smoke, the word is just as offensive as a racial slur? I inevitably end up explaining the etymology of the term each year. For the record. The term is applied to homosexual men because during the middle ages and into the time of the witch hunts in Europe and North America men who were “condemned” of such an “unnatural” act were bound and placed in the fires that were used to burn the witches and heretics. And since the term faggot originally referred to the bundling of sticks for firewood, the term became applied to homosexual men. As I explain to my students, when you use such a term for someone, you are saying their life is so worthless and meaningless that they deserve to be burned to death as kindling for more important criminals. I usually only have to explain this once and then they start censuring each other…at least around me.

Today my copy of the August 2008 Realms of Fantasy came in my mailbox. Do not ask me to explain the rationale behind the August issue appearing in my mailbox in May, because I can’t. What I can tell you is that the ad includes my Cerridwen Press release Measure of Healing. Measure is a paranormal romance about a Were-Cougar Halfling who seeks out the only help he knows of for a young Were-Cougar child who is suffering from sever trauma. Unfortunately, the only help he can find is a human doctor whose secrets could just get them all killed. Measure of Healing is the first story in what I hope becomes a series I’ve tentatively entitled The Children of Semira. I just recently finished the primary draft of the follow-up to Measure. It picks up the story of the young Were-Wolf who shows up at the end of Measure. Her story was originally planned to come first, but Alejandro Ramirez demanded precedence and you can’t argue with Alej.

EXCERPT FROM MEASURE OF HEALING:

[Alejandro] was starving and exhausted. He’d had little time before her arrival that evening. Just enough to throw some things in a bag, gulp down a bit of dinner and be ready. He’d had to spend most of the day at his father’s office dealing with one of the more unsavory construction companies his father was forced to sub-contract with by the economic conditions.

The Ramirez family was in demand for their work on hardwood flooring and custom cabinetry. Given the nocturnal nature of his animal side, he usually spent the bulk of his days sleeping and late afternoons and nights in the workshop making the cabinets, railings and scrollwork that was ordered. He still worried that his brothers would have trouble keeping up with the orders. Eddie had promised to help but he had a job now that took him away from the family and the last thing Alejandro wanted was for his father, at seventy-two, to have to try and pick up the slack. His two oldest nephews were showing an interest in the business and were earning money for the college years that were fast approaching by working part-time but the family agreed their schoolwork came first.

He followed her down the hall. She entered a large room with a king sized bed, a dresser, night stand and large wardrobe. The furniture was a dark mahogany that matched the wooden trim running along the ceiling and floor. A wooden chair rail circled the room separating a plum striped wallpaper on the bottom and a pale mauve paint above. The wood had been laid in alternating strips of mahogany and cherry. He ran the palm of his hand over the door jam and the nearest section of the chair rail. Someone had known what they were doing. She crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a small stack of clothes from a drawer that she left open. He half watched her as she moved to the closet and pulled out a blanket and pillow. He walked further into the room, running his hand along the wall. Then he moved toward the bed and his palm stroked the wood.

“Stop that!” she said sharply.

Alejandro’s eyes widened in surprise. She was glaring at him with a peeved expression. “What?” he demanded.

“Stop scent marking my house. You rubbed against the wall in the boy’s room, now you’re marking this one. I swear if you spray something I’ll neuter you myself.” She stomped out of the room.

He looked up at his hand where it still lay against the wooden post of the bed. And he laughed. He hadn’t realized he’d been doing it. He’d rubbed his back on the wall in the boy’s room on purpose. He wanted Tomás to know he was there. But he’d been rubbing his palm along the surfaces of this room, her room, absently. The palm of his hand where, like the pads of the cougar’s feet and along his spine, he had oil glands that left his mark upon what he touched. His amusement faded slightly as he began to wonder at just how much about him and his kind his little doctor seemed to know. He left the room and followed his nose to find her. She was making up a bed in a smaller room. It was so small it fit only the single bed and a narrow dresser.

She looked up at him, still irritated. “What have you got in that thing?”

He frowned, “What thing?”

She stood up from smoothing the blanket and pointed at his bag where it hung from his shoulder. “What, you keep all your cash in there? The secret map to a treasure chest heaping with gold? Why are you still carrying it? What’s in there that’s so special?”

He lifted an eyebrow at the sudden return of animosity and sat it down on the floor inside the door. “Nothing special, just your basics.”

She walked passed him, picked up the bag and headed down the hall. “Hey,” he went after her, “that is mine you know.”

“Cats,” she muttered under her breath. Reaching the larger room she placed it on the bed. “Then you’ll probably want it in your room.”

Realizing what was happening, he shook his head. “No, thanks little doctor but I’m fine in the other room.”

She smiled at him with a wicked light in her eyes that set him on edge. “You don’t think I’m sacrificing a good night’s sleep for you, do you?”

“No. Now why would I think that? You’re only trying to give me the bigger room, your room.” Alejandro gestured with his hand. “You’re sleeping in here. I’ll take the other room.”

Her eyes narrowed. Brie was well aware it wasn’t exactly nice of her to deliberately confuse the poor man but all things considered it was damned satisfying. “I thought you said you were going to cooperate with me?”

“I said I wouldn’t interfere in your treatment of Tomás.”

“Well, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” Her hands rested on her hips. “I need to be in that other room. It’s closer to him, it has a vent between the two rooms that will allow me to hear him, allow him to hear me and allow my scent to reach him even when I’m not in the room.” She moved to the door. “So be a good boy and sleep where you’re told. I’ll get the rest of my things moved in the morning.” Pausing she looked back over her shoulder. “Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. I’m going to put something on for dinner. Hope you don’t mind but I’m a strict vegetarian.” She flashed him a wicked “you’re so screwed,” grin and left.

And then more stuff happened...

Check out the blogs on the left. Sandra Cox is running a contest on her site too for a very cool bracelet.

Rambling about

My cocker spaniel, Shiloh, is crazy. Now this isn’t news to us, we’ve known it since she hooted like an owl the entire way home from the breeders. We’ve known this since we had to run her up and down the hill outside our house as a puppy so she would be tired enough to go to sleep at night. We’ve known this since I had to sleep on the floor next to her little puppy crate with my hand through the grating so she would stop barking and settle down. So this is not new. (She now sleeps in a crate in the bedroom while all other pups are down in the kitchen because if she doesn’t she barks all night.

But tonight she has gone beyond her usual craziness. Tonight she is barking at nothing. She keeps wandering to the short hall between the living room and kitchen and barking at the ceiling. Then she runs to the couch and barks at the hall. There are no mirrors, lights or shadows that we can see to explain her sudden psycho behavior. Then after being hollered at by me, she is wandering back and forth from the kitchen to the living room whining. At present she is staring at the ceiling of the hallway with great intensity, then at a corner of the living room, then back to the hall and so on and so forth.

Perhaps it’s the storm that is trying to break outside that has her stirred up. Or maybe the fact that the alpha dog was up at 4:30 in the morning working. Who knows. None of the other dogs are the slightest bit interested. Two are sleeping on my feet and a third is sprawled out on the couch sleeping.

I’ve been suffering from completion-phobia. I’m avoiding finishing my current WIP. The story is only two chaps from done, but I can’t seem to work on it. I’ve picked up the story that will follow that one and have begun working on it. *shrugs* I just hate finishing things up. I don’t know why.

Now I started writing this blog last night, and it is now the following afternoon. Yep, I’m want to do wild and crazy things like that. Life is so very exciting when you’re me.

Tomorrow is Monday. I truly despise Mondays. They come along just as I get into the groove of being me again and suck all the fun and happiness out of my week. You see I am basically nocturnal. I don’t get going until the sun goes down. Unfortunately my school does not subscribe to this theory and has the horrible demand that I show up by 8am every morning. Not bad you say? Well it wouldn’t be if I didn’t live so far away from my place of employment. I have to rise at the unholy hour of 5am, leave the house by 6am to arrive in time. Ten minutes late and I’ll be squealing into the parking lot at 8:04 am just ahead of the homeroom bell. I hate Atlanta traffic.

In the summers I become completely nocturnal. I am up all night until my SO gets up for work. After seeing my dearest off, I go to bed and sleep the morning and early afternoon away. I awake just in time to welcome home the weary worker and receive the glares and grumbles that are unjustly slung at my obviously just woken up self. I the summers I become the owl I was born to be. But during the year I’m stuck trying to force my body into the mold of the lark.

Yes, I am aware that very little of what I’ve actually typed makes any sense. That’s the beauty of it. I don’t have to make sense. It’s my blog. So to make up for it, I offer an excerpt.

Measure of Healing:

Working together they carried the crate into the small bedroom in the back of the house. Alejandro noticed the Spartan décor. The bed was stripped to the mattress and a couple of blankets were stacked on it. The room had a bedside table and rather than a dresser, a shelving unit. All of it bare. There was one picture, its plastic frame affixed to the wall by screws at all four corners. A small clearing in the Everglades met his eye. Brie opened the door to the crate.

“I cleared everything out of here when I came to get the 4Runner,” she responded to the question he didn’t ask.

“Will it take long to clear out the closet?” Alejandro leaned against the wall of the room. Brie watched him shift slightly against the wall as if he were stiff and was stretching. If he was doing what she thought he was doing she’d slap him.

“I’m not clearing the closet,” she walked over and pulled on the door. The latch was tight.

Alejandro frowned. “You’re not going to give him a place to hide are you?”

“No,” she turned to face him. “We’ll leave the crate with the blanket for a day or two then I’m taking it out as well.”

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped when she glared pointedly at him. “You said you wouldn’t interfere in this.”

“You’re sure about this? That this is the right thing?” He couldn’t help it. His mind kept telling him how stupid it was to trust a human to know what was right.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him if he didn’t trust her, she could have him and the boy back on the plane in a matter of hours or just open the back door and toss them both out. Instead she forced herself to see past his skepticism and his suspicion. She counted to ten, twice. She told herself he was worried about Tomás and that that was to his credit.

“I’m sure,” she said through tight lips. “He’ll be better if he wakes up alone,” she motioned to the door.

Alejandro frowned at her again. “Alone in a strange place?”

“Not entirely strange. The scents will not be threatening. He will stay in the crate most of tonight and tomorrow, unless I miss my guess.” She looked pointedly at the man, “And I never miss my guess.

“Then he’ll start exploring the room. Something he’ll feel freer to do if there is no one around.” She walked out of the room and he followed, closing the door behind him.

“What if he hurts himself? You’re just going to leave him in there for the next few hours unsupervised, unmonitored?” This was not right. He was a child, cat form or no. You didn’t leave a child unattended for that long. Especially one you had drugged.

“No, I’m not. That’s where you come in.” She’d been thinking about this on the drive in. If she was stuck with him, he might as well be useful.

Alejandro relaxed. Was she being deliberately obtuse? “You want me to stay with him.” He stated, finally understanding. The woman should have just said so.

“No.” She met his eye unflinchingly. “You are not to step foot in that room until I say you can. Those are the terms, Cougar. Take them or go.”

When he didn’t answer but stared at her, eyes blazing, she snorted angrily, “Look, do we really have to do this crap or is there enough human in you to realize that we’re talking about a living child and not a deer carcass that you’re protecting? Because, Cougar, you are either going to help or stay out of my way.”

She didn’t even blink when the low growl came from his throat. “No one who didn’t birth me or raise me ever talks to me like that, lady. And even they don’t talk to me like that any more.”

“Oooh,” she rolled her eyes. “Big scary Cougar-man is angry.” She stood tall and actually stepped closer to him. “See me tremble.”

She was either the bravest human he’d ever known or the most foolish. His brothers and sisters backed off before they pushed him too far. Even his father seemed to know how far to press him.

“Don’t push me, lady.” He stepped up to her and glared down into her face. Even as he did it, he knew she wouldn’t be intimidated.

“Why? What are you going to do about it?” she smirked at him. A little more, she thought, just a little more and we’ll know.

“Are you stupid?” he moved closer, forcing her to back into the hall wall to avoid making contact with him. He braced his hands on the surface to either side of her head. “Little doctor I could rip your throat out before you could even scream.”

“I’d like to see you try it.” She sneered. Alejandro narrowed his gaze and watched her. She was amazing. She wasn’t afraid of his threats. His proximity bothered her. Hell, it bothered him. But he smelled no fear, no hesitation in her. If he wasn’t so angry he’d damn well be impressed.

“As tempted as I am,” he stepped back and turned away from her. “I won’t.”

There it was. What she wanted to know. “Why? How do I know you won’t get pissed off later and kill me in my sleep?”

“Because I said I wouldn’t,” the words came out loud but he stopped them from becoming a full yell. “On the plane I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“And because you never have,” she said softly.

The change in her tone turned him around. Her face was calm and emotionless but her eyes held a shrewd look. Her voice, when she spoke was almost gentle and it ran down his spine as if it physically stroked him. “You’ve never attacked anyone, have you?”

“I’ve had my share of fights and I’ve got the scars to prove it.” He watched the startling blue eyes watch him.

“But you’ve never attacked. You’ve defended yourself but you’ve never attacked.” She said the words as if she knew them to be absolutely true. With humans that was to be expected. But she could feel it in him. He’d never even attacked another Cougar, never challenged another male.

“What does that matter?”

“It matters a great deal,” Brie smiled inwardly. She didn’t trust him. Trusting a Cougar got you dead, or worse. But she didn’t have to sleep with a gun under her pillow. When the time came that he hurt her it would be because he had no choice or didn’t understand the consequences of his actions. He might be the cause of her death but she now believed he wouldn’t be the instrument of it. Then again maybe that’s why he’s here, she thought. It wasn’t the first time this had occurred to her. Maybe he’s a part of it or maybe he’s just an innocent pawn. She was wondering more and more if the whole thing weren’t a set up. Wondering if the Cougars hadn’t gotten tired of waiting. His presence here would give them all the impetus they needed to finish what they started all those years ago.

In Praise of the Bears

Let’s start with a good review for Mating Stone. Amelia Richard at Sensual reviewed Mating Stone and said:

For her new series, Elyssa Edwards crafts a tale where shape-shifters can seem totally normal yet their lives are definitely fascinating. Ms. Edwards takes the paranormal element of being able to change shapes and tells readers a captivating love story with often poignant emotions. Mark and Sarah are a charming couple with their devotion to each other particularly apparent through their actions and words. With tenderness and passion, this couple expresses how they truly feel for each other, and these sentiments are beautifully shown in numerous ways. The inner feelings of these two come across in a powerful way, whether they are reacting with each other or with another being. There are some disclosures which I found to be intriguing, and each one adds a compelling aspect throughout the story. The only problem with the story is I wish it had been longer as this world fascinates me, but I hope to hear more about this couple and those around them when additional books in the series are released. MATING STONE is a magical story with original characters and an engaging plot to keep readers thoroughly entertained.

Thank you, Amelia. I’ve had a lot of fun writing this series which is officially called The Jewels of Ursus. These are three special guys I’m very happy decided to tell me their stories. The sequel to Mating Stone, Lovers’ Stone will be released in July and tells the story of Luke Ursine, Mark’s twin brother. The final book in the trilogy, to be titled Soul Stone, will tell the story of Tarris Ursine, the incubus who is closer than family to Mark and Luke and who appears in both Mating Stone and Lovers’ Stone. Oh, and the last one will be full novel length.

Oh and by the way, if you are looking for a story in the same world as the Ursines, Measure of Healing from Cerridwen Press may do the trick. Whether it’s Jacqueline or Elyssa, our Weres happily cohabitate the world.

I know the review says The Stones Series and that’s not the writer’s fault. I’ve recently discovered a problem with my website not updating a specific page and the working title is still showing.

Mating Stone:

Our hero:

Mark Ursine

Were

Profession: That's a long story.

Age: 154 (looks about 28-29)

Story: Mating Stone by Elyssa Edwards from Ellora's Cave.

Mark is part of a race of shape shifters that found their way to our world before humans had mastered the use of fire. Respectful of the sentient creatures they believed had great potential, the shifters kept to themselves so as not to intefere with their evolution. When disaster collapsed the energy source that allowed them to remain in phase with our world, they tied their spirits to those of animals so that they could survive and remain. Mark is decended from a group that chose to unite with the bear. They do not choose which species of bear they become, that is determined by birth and largely influenced by family bloodlines.

Mark becomes the great brown bear, also known as the Kodiak. When tragedy, his guilt and his brother's blame drove him to distance himself from his family, he didn't realize his time in the human world would introduce him to the one person above all that he could love with his heart and soul. As the oldest it is he who must replace his grandfather as Amar, the leader of their clan. But will his brother Luke allow him to succeed without a challenge? Will his people accept his choice of mate? And once Sarah finds out what he is, will she still want him?

Excerpt:

The night they met had been her birthday. She’d let her sister and some friends talk her into going to a club to celebrate. “Come on Sarah, it’s February 2. It’s your twenty-eighth birthday, so do what all good little groundhogs do and get out. Even if you see your shadow, at least you had fun before you run back and hibernate some more,” her sister had teased until she’d agreed.
She’d not met Mark at the club but afterwards on her way home. Hitting a pothole had blown her tire and while she could change a tire herself—hell, like any good ol’ Minnesota girl she could change a tire, put on her own snow chains and knew how to use the jumper cables in her trunk—she just didn’t relish doing it in the short skirt her sister had talked her into wearing.

Resigning herself to ruining her stockings and probably the new skirt, she’d been hauling the jack and donut from the trunk when a motorcycle had roared up behind her. The headlight had almost blinded her but not as much as what stepped out into the light. Pulling a black helmet from his head the man had been devastating. His black jeans and leather jacket completed a monochromatic feast for the eyes.

Flashing her a smile almost as bright as his headlight he’d insisted he couldn’t let a lady like her change the tire. He’d made short work of the flat even if she did stand there like an idiot and chatter way. By the time he was done he knew it was her birthday and where she’d been. If it had taken any longer she’d hated to think what else would have come bubbling out of her mouth.
He packed her jack back into her trunk and asked her allow him to follow her home since he didn’t have much confidence in the small rubber tire. When she’d hesitated he’d pulled out his driver’s license and a credit card. He put them in her hands. “Hold on to these. If you get spooked at all you know who I am, where I live and can either call the police or charge a fortune for yourself in compensation.”

When they’d arrived at her place she handed them over and smiled nervously. “Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough,” she nodded down to the damp patches on his knees where he’d knelt in the wet snow alongside the road.

“Then have dinner with me tomorrow,” he’d flashed an encouraging smile and she felt as if her bones melted. “That’s all the thanks I need.”

She agreed and had started to walk away when he called out to her. He was pulling something from the storage compartment under the seat and walked quickly up to her. His long legged strides held her so transfixed she didn’t see what he had in his hands. He stopped in front of her and hesitated. She looked up at him. He suddenly seemed shy and uncertain, grinning up at her through the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, Sarah.” He placed a single red rose in her hand. His quick kiss to her cheek was so soft and so fast that she almost missed it. By the time her fingers rose up to touch where he had pressed his lips to her skin, he was back on his bike, turning it and roaring away. Odd but only now did it occur to her to question where on earth he’d gotten the rose.

Remembering Safety Dog

Today starts with very sad news. I received word from my ex that our dog Henry passed away early this morning. Henry was a 14 year old pug that was absolutely devoted to my ex and so custody was never an issue for us. I got generous visitation for the last 5 years, but it certainly wasn’t enough. Henry is the last of the first generation of my four legged children to leave us. They were the companions of my early adulthood and what seems like a whole lifetime past.

When we brought home our little pug puppy, he rode tucked into my ex’s jacket. I held him and started talking to him while waiting for my ex to come out of the store where we had stopped to pick up puppy food. We had an adult pug at home named Tootsie, but had read that pugs, in particular, get very lonely if they don’t have company. As I talked to the pup, going over a list of possible names to discuss I hit upon a family joke. When the eldest of my brothers was preparing to enter the world, my mother wanted to name him after his father. My stepfather refused. So they couldn’t settle on a name for him. My stepfather finally took to saying that he was just going to name the baby Henry Kissinger and be done with it. (This was the late 70’s.) My mother had fits, but still they couldn’t decide.

My brother was born caesarian section and my mother was under general anesthetic. As it would happen, my stepfather was also an inpatient at the time undergoing a rather serious back surgery. He’d fallen off a roof. My poor grandfather was running up and down the elevators between the maternity ward and the surgical ward. When my mother came out of anesthetic, my grandfather and stepfather played a cruel joke. My grandfather told her that because she was out of it, the nurses asked my stepfather what to name the baby and that her first son was now officially Henry Kissinger Neubig. He of course had not. He’d relented at the last and my brother became a number II.

Naming things Henry became a joke in my family. So as I’m holding the pup and thinking about it, I finally blurted out, “Well I guess we could just call you Henry.” I was stunned when the little pup lifted his head and looked me straight in the eye. He gazed at me for a moment and then lowered his head again and rooted for a comfortable spot to snooze. I giggled a bit and asked, “Is your name Henry? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Again he lifted his little head and met my eye. This was not a response to my voice. I’d been talking out loud to him for a while at that point. I always talk to my pets. When my ex returned to the car and I explained what had happened it was agreed. His name was Henry.

Henry was the roundest puppy you ever saw. His little fat belly nearly touched the ground. He soon earned the AKC registration name of “Fat boy Henry.”

His more enduring and endearing trait would lead to his long standing nickname, one that even earned him his own song. Safety Dog.

Henry was rather nervous by nature and often seemed to look upon any unusual event or happening with an eye to it’s potential danger. He seemed to sense that his master, my ex, was essentially a clutz. When the lawnmower came out, he hid. When a power tool was plugged in, he’d come running to me, his alpha dog, with a worried expression creasing his little forehead and a face that seemed to say, “Do you know what the beta dog is doing now?” In all fairness to Henry, his master had managed to nearly take off a foot with the lawnmower on one occasion and frequently had cuts and scratches from other simple activities. His concern was warranted.

Safety dog’s most memorable lessons in life involved water. Water was not Henry’s friend. We took him fishing one day. He was on his leash and was snuffling his way hurriedly down the dock. Nose to wood he hustled along, sniffing, sniffing, sniffing…plop! He sniffed himself right over the edge. I grabbed the lease and his master dropped to the dock and lifted him out. When he was eye level to his beta dog, the look on his face had both his human’s laughing so hard his master couldn’t even lift him out of the water.

On another occasion his extra bulk broke the ice on a ditch causing Tootsie and him to drop into the icy water. The beta dog went in after them thinking it was only a shallow ditch. Wrong. The ditch was a good 6 feet deep and filled with freezing water. There was no laughing that day.

So with tears and sadness I say goodbye to Henry. Henry, who never met food he didn’t like. Henry, who snored loudly on the pillow next to his master’s head every night. Henry, who would give a grudging sigh and patiently put up with the antics of his large and goofy Rottweiler brother, Koeby. Goodbye Safety Dog. Toostie will be waiting to boss you about. Koeby will be waiting to welcome you and introduce you to all his squirrel friends. And Wallie. Sweet Baby Wallie will be waiting to give you a wag, a big lick on the face and to commiserate with you the chore of spending an eternity with Koeby.

Now, in honor of Safety Dog, his song to the tune of Born to be Wild. Sing along.

Get your motor running
Always wear your seatbelt
Don’t forget your helmet
It’s the law in Illinois

Born to be mild.

Always obey the leash law
Never play in the street
Don’t chase the motorcycles
Or they’re gonna squish your head

Born to be mild

Now, a reminder about the contest.

You can enter up 'til April 11th to win the 17" double strand of freshwater pearls and amethyst beads. The contest is to celebrate the wonderful response of readers and reviewers to Mating Stone. In Mating Stone, Mark falls in love with Sarah. Sarah, a young human woman who has no idea that Were’s even exist beyond novels and movies. Strictly fictional. As a human woman, how do you react when Mr. Yummy tells you he’s the one with claws and may just leave fur on the sheets? So tell me: What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?

Email you answer to ElyssaWrites@aol.com

Reviews and Rants

First off, I received two great reviews today.

Measure of Healing received 5 nymphs from Literary Nymphs Reviews Only. I was thrilled with the review and thankful that the reviewer ejoyed it. "Secrets, pain and desire blend together and opposites are not so different after all. The Were-child is the glue that brings the story together and softness to these strong characters in Measure of Healing. I loved watching Alej and Brie find everything that has been missing in their lives and finally accept what they were. I was emotionally drawn to them and enjoyed the way their shells are chipped away little by little. Roth did an excellent job and I look forward to more of her stories."

Great news since several of my WIPs and sketched outlines involve this world. Almost finished is the story of the young Wolf who appears at the end of Measure.

Mating Stone was also reviewed at Literary Nymph Reviews Only and received 4 nymphs. This is my first Ellora's Cave release as Elyssa Edwards and I was nervous about its reception. But it's been great. "Mating Stone - Amethyst is a wonderful story with humor and sensual love play. Elyssa Edwards displays a very creative talent in this surprise saga. Mark is every woman’s dream man, caring, gorgeous and considerate of Sarah, who thinks about herself as a plain, shy woman. This is a remarkable read that I enjoyed."

More good news since this is the same world as Measure and the sequel to this, Lovers' Stone, is due out in July.

Other great authors getting terrific reviews that popped up on my radar today include:

Bronwyn Green-Mystic Circle. Bronwyn kicked butt with her 5 nymph rating. The reviewer couldn't stop gushing. Check it out at : http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2008/03/torrid-tarot-mystic-circle.html

Mona Risk- To Love a Hero. Lots of very nice praise for Mona at: http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2008/03/to-love-hero.html

Contests

Some of my more savvy colleagues manage to have killer contests and to do so regularly. I admit I’m not quite so adept. Mostly because I’m new to this and also because I’ve always doubted my taste. What if what I think is cool, no one else does. That happens to me a lot. You know that look you get when you go…”Oooh, isn’t that neat?” and the other person doesn’t think so? I get that frequently. Or maybe I’m just hanging out with the wrong people.

I also admit to being a person who often finds myself thinking, “Damn! That was a good idea. I wish I’d had that.” Or the one who gets the idea after the fact. I have a current release that would have been great to do a contest related to the amethyst since it was an “Amethyst” release from Ellora’s. Did I think if this? No, not until March. A bit late on the uptake, I am. Some days I feel like Winnie the Pooh. A bear of little brain. Lot’s of fluff and stuff between my ears. Maybe if I sat down and had a good think, think, think… I’d do better. So what idea did you miss the boat on?

This is my gripe for the day, and yes it is a gripe. There really isn’t anything anyone can do about it, but ignore me while I complain. I need more time to do what I need to do in each day. Namely to write. I have a WIP that I’ve been literally working on since July and I can’t seem to find time to finish it. The worst part is if I’m going to meet the deadline on it, it has to be done very, very quickly. There just aren’t enough hours in the day.

I have a long commute-3.5 hours. I’ve tried the idea of dictating to myself, but that really doesn’t work. It’s hard to make the words come out the way you want them to verbally and still look good on paper. And no, moving isn’t an option right now because the SO works in the opposite direction.

My job is time consuming beyond the confines of my day “on the job”. Grading, planning, creating worksheets, tests, etc. occupies a great deal of my time outside of the school day. Those who think teachers only work 6 or 7 hours a day are deluded. If I give an assignment, I have to grade it. One hundred and twenty times. If I need to give an assignment, I have to create it. There are some resources available that teachers share on the internet, but once you get out of elementary school there really isn’t much out there for teaching reading in upper grades. Add to this the fact that like most school districts, mine doesn’t provide resources for teaching reading. We have a few class sets of novels, but that’s really it. The rest is up to me to find, buy and or create myself.

I have a family. It’s just the two of us at the moment and the dogs, birds and fish, but that still means I have to do all the regular stuff like dishes, laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, running errands etc. Then it’s time for me to write or sleep. Some days it’s a choice between the two. And I have to tell you, sleep usually wins. I like sleep. Sleep is my friend. And yes, I know that we “make time for what’s important.” But there is a point at which there is no time left to squeeze.

Thus ends my complaining. So what do you find that you want to do or do more of, but just can’t seem to squeeze the time in for?

Calling Off, New Releases and Gertrude Stein

Today is the big day for Kelly Kirch, a fellow writer. Her historical romance with Resplendence Publishing is released. Marriage Mart is one I've been waiting for for a while and I'm eager to curl up with it.

I'm afraid I have no really profound things to say today. Nothing important. In fact, I'm sitting here trying to decide if I am going to call off work tomorrow. Of course I'd never call off for any reason other than personal illness that was so severe I couldn't possibly crawl myself out of my house and off to work. Not now that I'm a responsible adult.

This has not always been the case in the past. I've called off for a sick dog, a sick spouse and a sick car. I've called off because I had papers to finish for a class. I've called off because I didn't have enough money to pay for the gas to get to work all week, so if I just stayed home one or two days, then I could make it til payday. I've called off because I had a late night, not necessarily carrousing and carrying on, but because I was up late reading and was frankly just done the next morning. I once actually called off work because I had no clean clothes. I'd missed laundry day and didn't have anything that met the dress code for my job clean. Of course in my usual last minute way of things, I didn't realize this until that morning.

So what's the worst reason you've ever called off for?

I got good news at the start of March. Measure of Healing, my second release from Cerridwen Press had sold four times as many copies as my first release had during it's first month. I wondered why that was. Was it genre? One is a futuristic romance and one is a paranormal. Is it the covers? I actually liked the first cover better. Is it a new author thing? I have no idea. When I shared this question with others I think the best reaction I got was a lovely paraphrase of Gertrude Stein who said, "There ain't no answer. There ain't never been an answer. There ain't ever going to be an answer. That's the answer."

So I ask you, what makes you decide to buy a book? What makes you pick it up and say, I'll plunk down my hard earned dinero for this one? How important is the cover? The blurb? The author's name?

And what kind of books do you write?

Since I received my first book contract the question I've been asked the most is "What kind of books do you write?" Now on the surface that doesn't seem like a difficult question, but it is one that has left me hemming and hawwing for answers.

Maybe it's because my first book, Access Denied, was not like the rest of the stories I tend to have in my head. It was a futuristic, soft science fiction story set in a world where almost everything is controlled for you. But this book is an anomaly among my stories. So if I tell you that I write futuristic, soft science fiction and you pick up one of the other books you will think me mad.

Most of the other stories that have been/are being published fit into the paranormal genre. I have a series that isn’t a labeled series because I only recently figured out what to call it. In the little world I’ve created, a race of shape-shifters have come to our dimension seeking peace. They are forced to tie their life energies to those of indigenous animals to stay in this new haven they call Semira. Measure of Healing follows my Cougars and Mating Stone (and the coming sequel, Lovers’ Stone) follows my Bears. There are 13 races in all. So I write paranormals or fantasy—but then again…

Seeing Me is due out in March. Again, it is neither a science fiction story nor a paranormal. Granted it is filled with fantasies, but that’s not its genre. It’s a contemporary story about a writer who meets a man that has women all over the world panting. The best part is, he seems to be very interested making her pant. So I write contemporary…or not.

And my Works in Progress (WIPs) are no help, either. One is the final installment in the Stones trilogy. One is the sequel to Measure of Healing that takes us to the world of the Wolves. One is a story about a young woman who goes home to the small town she fled and finds not much has changed, but what has is the boy next door. One is the retelling of a popular myth. And finally one is a completely different piece about dragons and healers and warriors.

So I give up folks. Don’t ask me what kind of books I write because the answer you’ll get will be the same one I give to my students when I’m in a contrary mood and they ask what kind of book I brought for the day’s read-aloud.

“The kind you read.”

Meet My Guys

Yesterday I participated in a chat loop to kick off the Valentine’s contest. While chatting I was posting excerpts from some of my books, and enjoyed telling folks on the loop to my guys. So I thought I’d spend a few days introducing people to my guys.

I’ve said before that my stories are often driven by the male characters. No, not often, always. They are the ones who pop into my mind first, they tell me their stories and introduce me to the people in their lives. They whisper in my hear, argue with me, pout, fuss and sulk when I don’t get it right or don’t write for them that day and they open up their souls to my inspection. My men may not be corporeal, but each one of them is special.

Alejandro Ramirez
Half Human/Half Were-Cougar
Age: 51 (looks about 28)

Alejandro is the son of a She-Cougar and a human man. Though not the only kitten in his litter, he was the only one with human blood. When he experienced his first transformation, as is the way of the Cougars, his mother sent him out with nothing but a few dollars in his pocket and his human father’s driver’s license. A souvenir of their tryst.

Taken in by his human family, Alejandro finds a life that his human half craves, but his Cougar half can never fully accept. Male Cougars do not form families. They are solitary creatures who hunt, mate and defend their territory. When he finds himself responsible for a small Were child he has no choice but ask the Were world for help. They send him to a human. But Brie has secrets that could get them all killed.

As his human need for love and family war with his Cougar heritage, he finds that the family he really wants includes Brie and the child they are working together to heal.

Excerpt:

The man who sat in the corner booth this early afternoon was certainly no college boy. He also wasn’t one of the park staff. But he could easily have been one of the regulars. His tightly set jaw cut a clean, slightly squared line. The long hair was loose and reached his shoulders, a red bandana tied around his forehead to keep it out of his eyes. The mixture of medium brown and golden strands gave the hair the color of richly polished maple. He was a bit pretty for this neck of the woods but there was something dangerous and hard about him that warned everyone a harsh penalty would be extracted from anyone who pissed him off.

Henry continued to eye him warily until a familiar voice called out as its owner entered the door. “Hey old man, you still alive?” Henry scowled at the speaker and immediately opened a bottle.

“Haven’t you been eaten by a gator yet, asshole?” He slid the beer down the bar to where the new arrival stood grinning at him.

“Naw but keep prayin’. Between you and my ex-wife, maybe you’ll get lucky.” He picked up his bottle and stepped away from the bar.

“I’ve seen your ex-wife, Eddie-boy. Just hearing her, me and getting lucky in the same sentence is enough to make me swallow drain cleaner,” Henry snorted. Poor kid couldn’t be over 30 and he had one hell of bitch nipping at his heels.

Eddie grimaced, “Where were you with your sage advice before I said I do?”

“As I remember it, every male in the family tried to stop you and you threatened to kick the hell out of all of us,” the deep voice rumbled up from the booth in the corner.

Eddie pushed his black hair out of his eyes and his face grew serious, his voice hard. “This good-for-nothing giving you trouble, Henry?”

The bartender glanced between the two men. He’d never heard Eduardo Ramirez speak a harsh word to anyone. Even in the midst of a fight, Eddie’s smile was fixed on his face and he used his quick tongue to strike as many blows as his fists. The man stood up and Henry reached carefully for the handgun that sat beneath a stack of towels on the shelf under the bar. If this guy messed with one of his customers, he’d be sorry.

Eddie slowly approached the man who was two to three inches taller than he and much leaner. He looked like a seasoned predator, one made hard by the struggle to survive. The smaller man was broader but Henry’s experienced eye told him who would be the more deadly if trouble broke out and it wouldn’t be Eddie.

The two men stood, eyes locked and bodies held stiff. “You look like shit,” Eddie snorted reaching out and grabbing the other man into a quick embrace.

At the hard, two handed slap on the back a hint of a smile broke out on the tall man’s face, a faint curl of the lip that almost looked like a snarl. “Let go of me, cabron.” The man pulled away and sat back down.

Eddie laughed again and looked over at the older man whose tension was almost tangible. “It’s okay, Henry. Alejandro has been calling me a lot worse for years.” Eddie slid into the booth, “Still a friggin’ ray of sunshine aren’t you, hermano?”

Sunglasses lowered to reveal golden brown eyes only a shade darker than the man’s hair. “I’m sitting in a dive in the middle of the Everglades and you know how much I hate the Everglades,” he glanced up to see the bartender standing close enough to hear, while trying to seem as if he weren’t hanging on every word. Both of the old man’s hands were now visible above the bar. Alejandro breathed a sigh of relief. He’d known there was a weapon back there and he’d have hated to have had to hurt the old man had he decided to use it. He’d have hated it but he wouldn’t have hesitated, not if it meant protecting his brother or himself. He met Eddie’s eyes and held them intently. The dark chocolate eyes of the other man widened in surprise as the next words sounded in his mind and not his ears.

Not to mention it’s not even noon yet and I’m walking on two legs instead of four. The frown deepened. So this better be good, little boy.

Eddie shook himself breaking eye contact. He squirmed for a moment in his seat as if he’d gotten a sudden chill. “I hate when you do that, man.”

Alejandro slipped the glasses into the pocket of his leather jacket, glanced back up at the bar and jerked his head toward the back of the room. “Let’s go play pool.”

His brother looked at him surprised. “You hate playing pool. Come to think of it is there anything you don’t hate?”

“Your parents,” the deep voice said briskly as Alejandro stood and walked to the back of the room. He paused and looked back toward Eddie. So unless you want to discuss this important business in front of the old man, get back here.

Eddie followed and muttered as he stepped past him to pull a cue off the wall, “You do that because I hate it, don’t you.”

“Sometimes,” came the cryptic reply.


(Photos of Alej are courtesy of Antonio Banderas only he doesn’t know it.)

Now, How to Win Free Books

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –1st prize--5 books

2nd prize--3 books

3rd prize--2 books
Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Taming the Beast within.

When I started working on the story that became Measure of Healing, I chose to work with cougars as my Weres for a couple of reasons. First of all, I’d never seen a Were-Cougar. I’d seen Wolves, Lions, Tigers, Bears , oh my. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) I’d even seen dragons, opossums and armadillos. These last two were in a young adult novel series about vamps and Weres. But I’d never seen a Cougar.

Then there was the way this story got started. It shares a common origin with the story being released next month by Elyssa Edwards, Mating Stone. It too is a paranormal with shape shifters. And both started as writing challenges. Neither of these two came from some sudden inspiration. Neither came from some a flash of creative insight. Both came because someone challenged me to write a story with a certain set of parameters. This time the challenge came from my friend Llew. I almost always take Llew’s challenges. She is extremely creative and a wonderful writer. One day you will all own books by Llewellyn McEllis.

Measure of Healing came about when Llew challenged a group of writers to write a fiction story based on a current events article. As I flipped through the pages of news on the internet I wondered what I could write about, I came across a story about the conservation efforts in the Everglades in Florida. Most particularly about the attempt to preserve an isolated pocket of cougars who were misnamed the Florida Panther.

This group of pumas (the official scientific term for cougars) had become cut off and had not retreated from humanity’s encroachment by fleeing westward. As man moved down the Florida peninsula, they became trapped and restricted to smaller amounts of territory, now almost exclusively living in the Glades. I’d been working on a different story about werewolves. I’ve long been fascinated by Weres. Not so much the ooh, scary man gets bitten and now howls at the moon type, as the we aren’t exactly human type. Yes, I’m a sucker for what some horror aficionados like to call the tame or “defanged” werewolf.

I heard L.A. Banks and Carrie Vaughn talking about this transformation last September. Both agreed with an opinion I’ve heard expressed by several authors of vampire and Were stories. There is something primal and sexual about the lack of control of the werewolf. The primitive, base feelings that this creature taps into are, in the correct settings, highly erotic. A Were is the ultimate alpha male. He doesn’t care about society and what the world tells him he should think or feel or want. He knows what he wants and he will move heaven and earth to get it. For a woman there can be something very sexy and satisfying if that thing your alpha Wolf…or Cougar wants is you. How he gets what he wants is the line that separates paranormal from horror. And the honest truth is there just aren’t very many horror Weres out there anymore.

So being in a Were state of mind already, I wondered what would happen, how it would impact the world if the animals being pushed toward extinction were Weres. Being intelligent and sentient live forms they would eventually decide to push back. And even more importantly, what happens to Weres if their base animals become extinct? And if the Florida Panthers were part of a larger Were community, what were they doing about the problem?

These questions formed the frame that became Measure of Healing. Alejandro Ramirez is a Florida Cougar, or at least half of him is. Dr. Gabriella St. Jerome is a human doctor whose past has become tangled in the Were world that she hates. In Measure of Healing she has to over come those feelings not just toward the Weres, but toward one in particular. Problem? If she does over come, it just might lead to the death of everyone involved.

Oh, by the way, Mating Stone, which is due out from Ellora’s Cave on February 8th came from a challenge to write a story set in February that included an amethyst, a Mardi Gras mask, a kiss and a groundhog. Were-Groundhogs? Naw…

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire?

Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line,

"My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –

1st prize--5 books

2nd prize--3 books

3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Most of these authors will also be participating in a chat on February 4th from 1pm-8pm at Love Romances Cafe. If you have not signed up for the chat loop, it's at LoveRomancesCafe-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

And so it begins...

Tomorrow my winter break is over. *sigh* I have to get up early, about 4:30 am so I can get dressed and make my commute to work. Why couldn't I have been born rich? Had a trust fund? I'd have put it to so much better use than some people who can't keep their panties on or their faces out of the tabloids.

Why didn't I marry rich? No, I had to marry for love. A poor librarian. Wanna know who has to have a Master's degree, be licensed by the state and gets paid even less than a teacher? Yep. Librarians.

So tomorrow I go back to my classroom. Report cards await. Such a joyous time of parents screaming and kids crying and wondering if they can still bring up that grade. No sweetie, it's already on the report card in your hand. I'm not a tough teacher. To quote the brother of one of my current students (I taught big brother about 2 years ago.) "If you fail Mrs. R's class, you must be stupid." A gratifying observation if not very helpful.

Since tomorrow is a work day, I'll take my dachshund with me. He loves to run about the room, sleep on the desk, etc. while I putter about. If I have to leave for something, he curls up in his carrier and snoozes until mom gets back.

*Sigh* At least it's not Wednesday yet.

And a reminder:

Measure of Healing
Jacquéline Roth

January 17th

Alejandro Ramirez’s Were-Cougar mother drove him out after his first transformation at the age of fifteen leaving him to seek out his human father and find the family his human side craved but that his animal side can never embrace. Now a man, he finds himself responsible for a traumatized Were-Cougar child. When he turns to the Weres for help, they send him to a human. Dr. Gabriela St. Jerome knows of the Cougars and hates them with every fiber of her being. But now she must swallow that hatred to work with Alejandro to help a Were child who has been thrown into transformation far too early by the horrific death of his mother. As they are forced together in the remote woods of the North Georgia Mountains, both find their mutual attraction overwhelming. But if Brie gives into this man and her own passions, it will cost her dearly. It will cost her her life.

Welcoming The Rain

It's raining today. This may not seem like a big deal to some, but here where I live it is very important. We've been living in a rather intense drought the last few years. Watering one's lawn has been so long forbidden I'm not sure anyone actually remembers how it is done any more. We had gotten down to the point where people were catching water from their air conditioners to water their plants and even putting buckets in bathtubs to catch the water run while the temperature adjusted. This was also hauled outside and used for watering.

Our governor has been in battles with neighboring states and the US Army Corps of Engineers for the last half of the year to slow the release of water from our reservoirs and keep some for ourselves. Our major water source, we have been told, could well be below the safe consumption level in less than two months.

But today it's raining. It rained yesterday as well. God willing, it will rain tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that.

The only ones who seem unhappy about this fact are my dogs. My cocker spaniel, King Charles and miniature dachshund are standing on the steps refusing to go out in the rain to do their business. My brittany could care less and is dancing about in the rain pointing things. Good old George. Maybe I'll give another turn at the blog for good behavior.

On another note:

My new book, Measure of Healing, will be released in just a couple of weeks by Cerridwen Press. It is a bit different than my last which was science fiction. Measure of Healing is a paranormal. In fact most of what I write are paranormals. I've been working all day on the follow up to Measure that I hope my editor will decide is worthy.

So I thought I'd offer up another excerpt from the upcoming release. This is a short bit and comes from the prologue.

Excerpt:

Excerpt of a speech given before the Atlantean Council, Year of Our Diaspora 3,097, by Damian Santiago on behalf of the Floridian Cougars.

As I look at the faces of this council I wonder to what degree I am wasting my time and my breath. I come with no expectation that you will be eager or even willing to hear what I have to say but with the determination and resolve that you will hear and that this time the council will have no choice but to act. We are brothers all, all thirteen races who fill these seats.

For millennia this august body has sat by on its haunches and done nothing to address the plight of those of our people who live their lives in fear of annihilation. Instead it has mouthed useless platitudes about cooperation and negotiation with the humans for that which by right of superiority, by right of first conquest, by the right of a people to survive, should be ours. As the centuries have passed this council has sat here ineffective and neutered by its fear of the gifted humans, by its fear of their magic. But I am here to serve notice to this council that the Florida Cougar will not sit quietly while you allow the greedy, grabbing humans to force us into extinction.

When we were forced to leave our first home in this world our ancestors sought out the Western hemisphere and the powerful cougar that ruled it. To that mighty beast we have joined our lives. We claimed the Western continents and we flourished and thrived despite your contempt for us, your silent punishments for our refusal to pacify the humans by relinquishing our birthright, our magic.

Along with our animal counterpart our numbers grew and our territory spread to cover almost all that is now North America. We lived at peace with the humans who followed us to this rich and bountiful land. The Iroquois, the Seminole, the Apache, the Sioux, all of their human tribes lived at peace with us. Some saw us as spirits, some saw us as gods but all dwelt in cooperation with us sharing the gifts of the Earth. Even the gifted among these humans respected our right to live. Then came the European humans. Those who had behind them a long history of persecuting the Were, of forcing us into hiding. Their superstitions, their quest for power had already brought to heel and hiding even those whose Domini, whose leaders sat at the head of this council.

They came and they claimed the land we lived in. As they drove the Cougars from their homes along with our animal friends, we appealed to this council. Your assurances proved meaningless as you turned a blind eye to what happened to us. Instead of banding together as brothers facing a common enemy you turned against your Cougar brothers. You demanded that like you, we relinquish the only protection we had from the humans, our magic. We refused, as we have always refused and all of you, all of our brothers turned from us in our need. You stood by silent while they hunted us and took our land, forbidding us to fight back.

Now I stand before you as evidence of what your cooperation, your subservience to the humans has cost us. The Cougars are now small in numbers and decreasing every day and don’t think I mean only our animal brothers. The entire Eastern portion of North America has been cleared of our kind. In the West, we exist in hiding, every day watching as the humans encroach further upon our land.

But the real horror, the real slap in the face that must awaken this council is what is happening in Florida. The animal known as the Florida panther, an entire sub-species of our cougar brothers has been reduced to less than thirty individuals as even their last bastion of retreat, the Everglades, is whittled down to almost nothing.

Does the council forget that we are tied irrevocably to our animal cousins? Among my people, the Cougars of Florida, there are less than thirty families left. We have no more room to hide, we have no more measure to give. Make no mistake, when the gifted humans have used the unknowing normals among them to drive us from our last Eastern stronghold, they will move West. If this council does not act today to check the spreading menace of humanity it will be responsible for the extinction not only of a species of large cat but of an entire branch of Weres. The Cougar seat on this council will be empty, my people—our people, extinct and the fault will lie squarely in your hands.

Measure of Healing

My second release from Cerridwen Press, Measure of Healing, comes out one month from today. So instead of a rant I thought I'd share the blurb and an excerpt.

Blurb:
Alejandro Ramirez’s Were-Cougar mother drove him out after his first transformation at the age of fifteen leaving him to seek out his human father and find the family his human side craved but that his animal side can never embrace. Now a man, he finds himself responsible for a traumatized Were-Cougar child. When he turns to the Weres for help, they send him to a human. Dr. Gabriela St. Jerome knows of the Cougars and hates them with every fiber of her being. But now she must swallow that hatred to work with Alejandro to help a Were child who has been thrown into transformation far too early by the horrific death of his mother. As they are forced together in the remote woods of the North Georgia Mountains, both find their mutual attraction overwhelming. But if Brie gives into this man and her own passions, it will cost her dearly. It will cost her her life.


Excerpt:
Brie rang the bell a second time. She could hear the sound of movement from within, still no one answered the door. There had been no visible number on the house and she had had to guess at its location by counting down from the nearest house that did have its address painted over the door. It was a law that all houses be marked but she somehow doubted that the local city hall sent many inspectors out to monitor compliance.

She was about to pull out her cell phone and try the phone number when the door finally opened and an older woman in her sixties answered. Her dark brown eyes were large and held a wary smile. The black hair was more grey than ebony and her face was tanned and wrinkled from the Florida sun. “Can I help you?” the voice carried a soft Latin inflection.
Brie removed her glasses and the woman’s eyes widened. Cursing she slipped them back on. She knew better. “I’m Gabriela St. Jerome, I’m supposed to meet Alejandro Ramirez. Is this the correct address?” She showed the woman the address written on a small slip of paper.

“You have found the right house.” The woman’s gaze was guarded. “You must be the doctor Alej said would come.”

“Yes,” Brie breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was in the right place. “I’m Dr. St. Jerome. Is he here?”

“I’m here,” the low voice rumbled from the darkened interior of the house. A man stepped up beside the woman and Brie felt her breath catch. He was impressive, the kind of man her research assistant Caroline would call yummy. But his look was wrong, good but wrong.
She frowned at him and Alejandro suppressed the urge to smile nastily. “We better let her in Mama, before she falls down from shock and we have to explain it to the neighbors.”

The older woman gave the young man a patient look and opened the screen door. “Come in Doctor, I’ll fetch you something cool to drink. Alej see that she is comfortable.” As she passed him she gave a mock scowl, “And behave yourself.”

The tall man stepped back and motioned for her to select a seat in the room. The house was comfortably furnished with well worn and used furniture. Choosing a spot on the end of the sofa, Brie perched stiffly. Alejandro was watching her unabashedly, staring almost rudely at her. Lifting her head, she stared back. He wasn’t what she expected. Most Were-Cougars did not look like this. They were tall but not abnormally so. Their hair was generally somewhere between a silvery ash blonde and a dark golden blonde depending on where they called home. And their eyes were blue.

She’d never known of a Were-Cougar whose eyes were not blue. In the wild the actual cougar kittens, Were and animal, were born with blue eyes. Were-Cougar kittens’ eyes remained blue while the animals’ eyes changed to a golden yellow-green. It was one of the identifying marks of their kind. Yet the man who stood there silently taking her measure broke most of the rules. He was tall. Six five at a minimum. His hair was dark and the eyes that seemed to be trying to see inside her were brown. Had Sister Margarite not told her he was Cougar, she would never have known. He looked human.

His eyes held hers then looked away. He was amused. And he was aroused. Good thing you’re not a Were, Princess, cause I’d certainly be getting my face slapped or clawed about now. His thoughts and the accompanying images were broadcast so that any Were could have heard him and they flitted through to her as the woman re-entered the room.

“No, I’m not like you but I am empathic and telepathic. Don’t worry, though, I’m actually more offended at being called Princess. I’d suggest you don’t do that again.” She straightened her skirt and accepted the iced glass from the chuckling woman. The man had a vivid imagination, she’d give him that.

Alejandro stiffened and frowned. Damn that Wolf! The least she could have done was warn him. He’d not run across a gifted human in a long time, then again he’d not been around any humans but his family for the past couple of months.

When she spoke again, it was with deep amusement. “And while we’re getting the surprises out of the way, let’s just deal with this, shall we?” Her voice was filled with impatience but he could hear the anticipatory chuckle it hid.

She pulled off her glasses and revealed a set of deep electric blue eyes. His breath left his chest in a rush. She had the eyes of a Cougar. He’d never seen a human with eyes that color and found he could only stare at her. She was laughing at him but he was too stunned to be angry, yet. Something in him was reacting to her, or to what she seemed to be, in a dangerous way.

“You should learn to trust your nose. For I, Mr. Ramirez, am no more what I look like than are you,” she sat the glass down on a coaster.

So it was an illusion. Determined to wipe the superior smile off her face he shrugged. “You may wish to rephrase that statement, Dr. St. Jerome. I am at least half of what I seem to be.” He walked over to the couch and dropped down next to her, leaning back insolently and stretching his arms out across the back. “I’m half human on my father’s side.”

Her eyes widened and it was her turn to be shocked. A Were-Cougaress mating with a human? It was unheard of. Males had been known to toy with humans and even leave behind mixed blood children but no female would ever…

“My mother was young, on her first estrus actually, when she came across my father one evening. He was a bit younger and a bit more reckless back then and had fallen asleep in his truck alongside the road.” Alejandro leaned forward and looked at her with a wicked light in his eyes. “I’m afraid he was a bit wasted. Three days later she was gone. Seven months later I arrived. And fifteen years after that, when she figured I could fend for myself, I was turned out with nothing but a few dollars in my pocket and my father’s driver’s license. She’d stolen it from him as a souvenir.”

Leaning back he spread his hands wide, “So I sit before you in the bosom of the only real family I’ve ever known. A half Were with dark hair and eyes and a traumatized kitten in his bed. Now that we’ve had our little ice breaker can we get down to business.”

And now:

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

Seven Seductive Santas.

For reasons I can't quite articulate, Santa #4 here is my favorite. He's not a ripped as some of the others, but there is something extremely sexy about this Santa and this pose. Come back tomorrow for Santa #5. He's a particularly naughty little Santa.

Do you want to win some fantastic holiday reading? If so come celebrate the Twelve days of Romance with 12 authors from Ellora's Cave, Wild Rose Press, Total-E-Bound and Cerridwen Press. Each day beginning December 8th and running through December 19th one of the twelve authors will tell what their "True love gave to them" on either their blog or website.

Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books. There will be three lucky winners. The prizes –

1st prize--6 books

2nd prize--4 books

3rd prize--2 books

All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Participating authors/books:

Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan’s Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape Cowboy’s Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves