Reviews and thoughts on free books

There are two things in life that I adore.

1. Free things

2. books

So free books should be an absolute no brainer. Well…not so much it seems. I looked back of this list of book reviews and the previous lists and led me to a realization that saddens me. When I first got my new Kindle I was pleased by the prospect of being able to download the free books to help me find new authors I enjoy reading. However of the twenty books I’ve read that were free reads, I’ve found two authors whose works I would be willing to pay for. Not exactly a good average. I will wade through a lot in the name of free, but I think the lesson here is you get what you pay for.

Side Jobs-Jim Butcher

This book is a collection of several of Butcher's short stories that have appeared in anthologies or have been published in other forms over the years. The stories span the entire series with the first story being before Storm Front and the last taking place just after Changes. Some of the stories are great and some are just okay. I had originally been excited that the novella from Thomas Raith's perspective was included since it isn't in print and sounded interesting. However, I was underwhelmed by it. The premise held promise, but there was something about it that just didn't ever gel.

The best story was "The Warrior". It takes place after Small Favors and deals with Michal and the Fists of God. It was a terrific story about how sometimes the things we do, that we think don't matter or are inconsequential, are the things that make the biggest impacts on those around us.

Giving Chase-Lauren Dane

I cannot figure out the 5 star reviews on this book. Are there two different books out there that are being confused? The premise had promise but the delivery was sloppy, redundant and irritating. The dialogue and character development was absolutely ridiculous and down-right insulting.

Firstly, the errors in grammar and word choice are unforgivable in a professionally published piece of work. I'm astounded that the writer, editor and final line editors all missed the incorrect tenses and missing words in sentences. Secondly the book was redundant. Characters repeated themselves and, worse, the scenes of intimacy repeated themselves. I realize that publishers of romance and erotica...and let me point out that this is true of smaller publishers and not so much the larger houses...have turned characters having unprotected sex into a crime and everyone better break out the protection. I understand the nod to political correctness; still, it is the responsibility of the author to handle that with finesse. This author failed miserably. The repetitive "tearing open" was so jarring and the actions in the intimate scenes were so redundant that it was dull. Fewer scenes described in depth, done better would have been preferable.

Finally, watching episodes of Designing Women is not a substitute for research. All of the characters were repeatedly addressing each other as honey, sugar, darling, etc. I live in Georgia where this book is set and no one here talks that way, especially the men. The men in this book sounded like women--or rather some stupid stereotype of southern women. No man in the south calls a woman in his own age group honey, sugar or darling unless she's his girl. And the women in this book were nothing more than a rehashing of the most simplistic and ridiculous stereotypes of southern women. To hear the author tell it, only the heroine, her closest friends and the mother of the hero are anything but cold-hearted B..'s or well, it starts with an sl- and I don't think I can use it in a review either. This book is downright insulting to the modern Southern woman.

Under the Persimmon Tree-Suzanne Fisher Staples

This is the story of a young girl, Najmah, caught in the middle of the war in Afghanistan. Her father and brother are taken by the Taliban and forced to fight. After her mother and infant brother are killed by American bombs, she is helped by the son of a neighbor who takes her with his family to a refugee camp on the Pakistani/Afghan border. Parallel to Najmah’s story is the story of a young American woman, Nusrat, who came to Pakistan with her Afghan husband so that he could open medical clinics across the border to help his people. As the story opens, that husband is missing. Eventually the two females' paths cross. And Nusrat finds herself frustrated in her attempts to save Najmah and the other children living in such horror.

This was just okay. It is a young adult book, written for the tween crowd, but still it seemed very rushed, as if the author was being held to a strict page limit. Many of the characters were undeveloped and their actions were therefore erratic. The lack of development made it hard to understand or to rationalize why the characters did what they did. Even in a children’s book, these basic elements of a story must be developed.

Ghost Story-Jim Butcher

Seriously? I kept expecting Bobby Ewing to step out of the shower. The story itself was really good. But the resolution to the bigger problem of Harry being dead was a cheat and not even worthy of a soap opera. No one expected Harry to stay dead but the solution to the mystery of his killer? Thank goodness it was really only a subplot in the grander scheme of what was happening in the book because if this was the grand finale, I probably would have chucked the book at the wall.

Laird of the Mist-Paula Quinn

If you're not big on historical accuracy and don't mind when an author forgets she's writing about the 17th century, you'll be fine. The author's characterization of the gender roles of this era are not spot on, and her over use of the Highland brogue reads less like authentic dialogue than as affected and difficult at times to read. In some places it is so badly done as to be incomprehensible. I do believe every fourth word of dialogue is "bonny", "braw", or "dinna".

Overall it is a predictable little read for those who don't want to think, which is fine. One of the best things about books is that they help us escape. Just don’t expect a great sweeping historical work of literature.

Also, I don't have a problem, as some have, with the hero being too much of a nasty murdering fellow to be forgiven. At the time, life was brutal. The Campbells and the MacGregors have been just shy of all out war for generations and that means they’ve been hacking up members of each other’s families. Of course one of the leaders of the MacGregors has killed and murdered the girl’s family members. It is what it is. But you can't make him a hero just by making the bad guy even worse than he is, not letting him kill the heroine or her brother and having him say "I love you." This guy is too brutal for that and the author doesn't give the reader enough to overcome that.

Rose Quartz-Sandra Cox

Four ancient women received magical amulets endowing them with a special gift or power. Those amulets still exist and Bella Tremain is the keeper of one. Now mad man Victor Price is in prison for trying to steal the healing amulet, but he's not out of the game. With help from the outside, he's set his sights on Bella's amulet that brings beauty and, more importantly, creativity hoping it will help him find a way to escape.

Cox consistently delivers engaging and well developed characters. Her stories are strong and well written. I'm looking forward to the third installment of the series.

Never a Bride- Amelia Grey

Mirabella has given up hope that her fiancé, Viscount Stonehurst, will ever return to marry her. Their fathers fixed the match six years ago after which he left for the Americas declaring he'd only return and marry her when he was old and gray. Since she was destined to be a spinster what would it hurt if she let a few gentlemen steal a kiss in the garden? Especially if the kisses revealed the identity of the man who drove her best friend Sarah to suicide? When Viscount Stonehurst returns unexpectedly, it creates more than one embarrassing moment for Mirabella.

This is the author's first Regency and it does show. What was surprising is that this isn't this author's first novel, she writes under a different name as well. My biggest criticism of this book was the dialogue. Mirabella is no novice to the ton or to the rules of society. It is not quite believable that she would act if she had no social filter on what she says or that she would be so forthcoming and unguarded with her returned fiancé, especially at first. He is a member of the nobility and she is a merchant's daughter.

In addition, the author does not fully establish why some characters would act as they do in the story. The "bad guy" for example, (he's not the actual antagonist in this story) is not really established as someone who would act as he does. There are no flaws revealed in his character until the last handful of pages when he's "revealed". It wasn't a surprise he ends up being the baddie, but Grey does not establish his character in this vein. Finally, the characters are likable, but they don't work as a couple. The chemistry feels forced.

It's a nice little story, just don't have great expectations.

The Farmer Next Door-Patricia David

Let me start by saying I like this author. I enjoy her Amish stories but this book, while an enjoyable read, was a tad irritating. This was a nice story but I think the author needs to work on her research. This was a problem in a previous book as well. While I'm no expert in Ohio adoption law, I'm fairly certain it takes more than six weeks to finalize an adoption, especially when the child's state of residence isn't Ohio, but Texas. And add in that the adoptive parent moved into the state the same week the process begins?

This was a nice story but I think the author needs to work on her research. This was a problem in a previous book as well. Perhaps instead of spending her time researching alpacas, the author should have taken a few minutes to research other elements of her story. It takes more than six weeks to finalize an adoption, especially when the child's state of residence isn't the same as the adoptive parent. And add in that the adoptive parent moved into the state the same week the process begins?

Perhaps instead of spending her time researching alpacas, the author should have taken a few minutes to Google Ohio adoption laws. A quick search (five minutes on Google) revealed that it takes a minimum of six months after a child is placed in the home before adoptions are final. The boy doesn't arrive until halfway through the story.

Again it's a nice story, but sloppy research is a major flaw.

eMuse March 09 is out.

I've been MIA for a while with no excuse besides being busy. The last couple of weekends we've been shopping for Easter clothes. Finding Momma a dress has proven much easier than finding Z a suit. It seems most baby suits start at 6 months and go up. We also had the task of finding his christening outfit. I wanted a traditional christening gown, the SO nearly had a conniption fit and insisted that he needed a suit. In the end I couldn't find a reasonably priced gown that wasn't frilly and girlie so we ended up going with the suit. It's a satineen pair of cuffed short pants, a shirt and a quilted vest.

We've also been hunting for a new camera as the old one died on us recently. That figures. Just when I need a camera to take massive amounts of baby pictures, the thing dies.

The March 09 issue of eMuse online literary magazine is out. eMuse is a quarterly ezine that features original art, short stories, poetry, reviews of books and articles. This month eMuse has reviewed books by authors you’ve heard me mention here including Anny Cook, Sandra Cox and Cindy Spencer Pape.

Two of my books are reviewed by staff this month as well. I’m an editor there, but I want to be clear that I don’t edit reviews for content-if someone said my work sucked, I’d not argue. In fact, this month you’ll find my latest book, Circle of Wolves, reviewed by a (gasp) man. A straight man. Interesting, that’s all I’ll say.

In addition, while we try to sustain the highest standard of literature at eMuse this month has one of the best short stories I’ve ever read. It’s dark, haunting and more than a tad sinister. Black Velveteen by Jennifer Hudock is a must read.

I’ve been a fan of NPR (National Public Radio) since I was young. I finally found a station here in Atlanta that broadcasts NPR during drive times and that has made me a happy camper. You never know what you’ll learn on NPR. It’s not all serious discussion of economics and politics or organic alfalfa farming. For example:

I heard this story first on NPR, then found the link on AOhelL.

Cat found in couch?

In Washington State a woman who bought a used sofa from a Value Village thrift store got more than she expected: a strange mewing noise and odd movements. Sure enough, when the couch was inspected a very hungry 9 year old calico cat, “Callie”, was found inside. Turned out the owner had been searching for his cat but had not put together the disappearance of the cat with the donation of the couch. Is a tirade on the dangers of sofa kitties coming up? Naw, just thought it was a curious and interesting story.


Sears’ Tower

Now if I were going on a tirade, it would be about this bone-headed move in Chicago. Most people in the US know the Sears’ Tower. It’s the tallest building in the US and was for a long time the tallest building in the world. The name Sears’ Tower was linked to Chicago like Wrigley Field, Soldier Stadium and Lake Michigan. But not for long. In a stupid move, obviously motivated by the tough economic times but stupid nonetheless, the name of this landmark will be changing.

The London-based insurance brokerage The Willis Group, as part of their occupancy agreement, was given “naming rights” to the famous tower that will now be known as the Willis Tower. First of all, what kind of idiot puts the rights to name the Sears’ Tower on the table in the first place? The purpose of the real estate investment group formed in 2001 to buy the tower was to protect it. Not to mention that Willis has stated they didn’t even pay extra for the naming rights.

And what kind of unmitigated gall does it take for someone to ask for the right to rename a landmark?

Vampires keep popping up.

In the past couple of days the subject of vampires has come up in my little world several times. A friend and I were discussing how we were looking forward to seeing the third Underworld film. Anny Cook wrote about vampires and their appeal on her blog. (I blogged on the topic a while back.) And several new books came out by writers I enjoy that included vampires.

As it happens, one of my WIPs involves vampires. I started it several months ago I have a place that I store my stories that dates them for me adds some extra copyright oomph by having a date stamp. This is my first foray into vampires beyond one short story. While examining what would happen if these creatures were real isn’t the most original idea, I flatter myself that I have a bit of a different approach on their origin and how things go.

But the truth is, where some ideas are concerned there are a lot of original angles a writer can take, but the basic concepts are anything but new. Time travel, especially historical time travel that lands someone back into the Scottish highlands a the mercy of the great and powerful laird or into Regency England, is not new. Vampires are not new. Weres or shapeshifters are not new. Stories where an author or a reader finds themselves inside one of their books is not new. On and on and on we could list these almost forever.

I agree with Neil Gaiman who once said [paraphrasing here] that there were only so many ideas for stories out there, but it was what each writer did with that idea that made it special and their own.

A bit of my vampire story? It's titled Scion.

Does it seem as strange to you to think of a time when we saw them that way? Scary images on film that would give children nightmares and that charged up adults with rushes of adrenaline as we suspended disbelief for a few moments to pretend they were real? Blood thirsty, horrific, terrible and real?

But then the images changed. Slowly they evolved into something beyond the vicious, monstrous, killers of legend. Hollywood turned them into the quintessential lovers and heroes. The short, squat Bella Legosi with hairy palms and scary eyes was gone and in his place stepped Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. They became tragic figures whose need for salvation and sad haunted hearts made Romeo seem like a lightweight. So beautiful. So elegant. So sexy. Younger and younger we became obsessed with the idea of them.

They became the romantic heroes of our age. Oh, they still drank our blood and hunted humans, but either they only preyed upon the wicked or we would be the one to save them, to teach them to love. They were the ultimate bad boys who would be forever beautiful, forever young and forever desirable. Even better, they offered to share that fate with us.

I guess that was the true stroke of genius in their plan—taking the proverbial bite out of their image by linking it with the ultimate teen fantasies. And sex. We can’t forget the sex. So the RPGs grew into graphic novels and internet chat sites where people lived out their fantasies. Kids all over where playing games like The Coven, Club Blood and Lilith’s Children. Writing fanfiction, playing dress up and pretending to be one of them. The whole subculture grew up in the larger cities and soon actual clubs and bars were springing up where people could step away from their computers, don their vampiric identities in the flesh and go interact with other wannabees. All just good clean fun. Weird, but no harm done.

And no one knew that this change had been deliberate, that it had been a part of their plan. You see, as we humans evolved, so did they. Only they evolved faster and better, leaving behind many of the limitations they once had and making us forget about even more of them. Garlic and crosses? Strictly the stuff of Hollywood legends. By the time they made their move, just ten years ago, the majority of us were ready to welcome them and to stand against the few remnants of resistance. Human rights now changed and expanded to cover those who were not human. By the time we came to understand just what they meant by “human rights”, it was too late. Maybe if we’d paid more attention to animal rights groups like PETA, karma wouldn’t be kicking us in our collective human asses.

I’ve had some mental breakthrough on another story I’m working on. Now I just have to hope Z lets me do something about it. Sigh. Papers to grade, stuff to write and a Green Bird that is head bobbing at me to remind me that he needs more food in his food dishes.

Z starts with his sitter on Monday. No one here is happy about it. I so wish I could be a stay-at-home mom but it just isn’t possible. Insurance, mortgages, car payments, etc. are all just too much for one of our salaries.

On a good note, Z has been much happier lately. He is actually laughing and smiling. He had a melt down today at JoAnn’s fabric store because he was tired of shopping, but he did very well. He also went to his first baby storytime at my SO’s library. He did well, but they didn’t stay for playtime because he was the youngest baby there.

Oh, anyone know a good way to label bottles and storage containers so that it doesn’t wipe off? We tried permanent marker but it rubs off and tape isn’t waterproof.

Run off to see Anny Cook, Kelly Marstad, Sandra Cox and Jenny Beans. Jenny will be blogging about the Underworld prequel today.

Funnies

Since I'm going to have to spend a couple of hours in line tomorrow to vote I thought I'd post a couple of political funnies. Yes, I have a particular bias. No, I'm not afraid to express it. Personally I think that healthy disagreement in the area of politics is one of the things that makes our Democratic Republic work.

While I'm not a fan of our current President, I think this says more about the accountability of a "lame duck" than it does about President Bush.

Okay, this one was just funny no matter who you are. I swear my younger sister used to do this.





Now for non-political funnies:

Hope you got at least one giggle. I'm sure Anny Cook, Kelly Marstad, Sandra Cox or Bronwyn Green have much more interesting things to say. Sandra Cox has a contest running with some other great authors so make sure you don't miss her blog.

Sunday Shopping and Worries

We had our usual Sunday today, almost. Smudgie was craving beef the last two days so we finally gave in and headed to the vegetarian’s nightmare. A BBQ restaurant. A mound of smoked, barbecued beef and fries later, and he was a happy little camper. Of course “mound” is a relative term since he’s now pushing up on mommies tummy and it doesn’t take much to fill it up. Same with the bladder.

(These are his first toys, sitting in his crib waiting for Smudgie to arrive.)

After lunch we stopped by the thrift store. It’s a regular routine for us and has been since we discovered we were pregnant. We started looking for cheap baby things. We’ve not bought anything other than the little hooded snuggle towels and some clothes there, but it’s been a wonderful bargain. The clothes they put out are clean and in good repair, unlike some of the more well known thrift stores. We started with newborn and 0-3 month clothes. We’ve filled two dresser drawers with onesies, sleepers and the like. We now have two full drawers of 3-6 month clothes as well.

We figure Smudgie won’t care where his clothes come from and he’ll only be wearing them a matter of weeks before he outgrows them. Why on earth pay $20 an outfit for new clothes? For that matter why pay $5.00 for a onesie when we can get five of them for that cost that are in good condition. Wash them up and they’re good as new. In fact, we found several outfits there that still had the original tags on them. The baby they’d belonged to never even wore them.

I’m a rummage and thrift shop kinda girl. We grew up very poor. Sometimes we didn’t have electricity or running water. A lot of the times we didn’t have much food to go around. I don’t think we actually had a telephone until I was 13 or 14. A lot of our clothes were either made by my great-grandmother or purchased from rummage sales. Our clothes often had patches. I remember my great-grandmother once telling me I had more patch than pants left on a pair of old jeans. That was the way it was.

And it seems as if more and more that’s the way it is today. While at the thrift shop I looked around at some of the people. I saw families shopping for clothes for their children and kids playing with the toys that had been cast off by others and begging their parents for just one. There were young college students and young couples sifting through the pots, pans, beddings and linens trying to outfit a first apartment. And in the rows was a lovely young woman trying on formal dresses for homecoming, a wedding or perhaps her quinceañera.

More and more it seems as if the gap between the “haves” and the “have-nots” is growing. There seem to be relatively few of us “have just enoughs”. Still even those few of us clinging to the middle can only stay there by being careful. Have you looked at your retirement fund lately? Even the state operated funds are in trouble. In GA, our teacher’s retirement board is voting to change the language from “will be given an annual cost of living increase” to “may be given an annual cost of living increase”. This means that the board could vote to hold pension payments at their current rates. When I retire in 20 years or around 2028, I could theoretically be retiring to a pension check that meets the standard of living for 2008. And personal retirement funds? Don’t let them fool you into thinking it’s only the wealthy that are taking a hit. Those are the folks that are so insulated it won’t hurt them.

When I last peeked, my retirement fund had lost 13% over the last 6 months. I’m lucky. I have years ahead to ride it out and for the market to climb back up. But what about those who are facing retirement in the next 5 years? What about the baby boomers who will be flooding into Social Security while those of us in the younger generations are fewer in number and operating on hard economic times?

I think the lessons we need to learn, and that I hope our generation is learning, is one my grandparents taught me. They were the Depression Era children. When you got a job as young as you could and a portion of your wages helped the family. When you pitched in as a family, not just you and your parents but your extended family, and you pulled together. When communities helped each other. Because folks, if we don’t internalize those lessons now, we and our children are facing a hard road ahead.

Wow, lots of serious stuff. How about an excerpt? Soul Stone, due out November 19th is the story of Tarris, an incubus. Tarris makes his first appearance in Mating Stone, the first book in the Jewels of Ursus trilogy.

Excerpt from Mating Stone, available from Ellora's Cave:

Her eyes widened as a man stood up and looked at them. Holy hell! Mark was gorgeous. She adored Mark. Mark made her toes curl and her insides melt. But this man was beyond anything she’d ever seen before. He was desire, he was sex.

His long blond hair hung almost to his waist, flowing loosely around his shoulders. It wasn’t a brash platinum blond but shone like polished gold in the reflected firelight. His eyes were the most blue she’d ever seen, they almost glowed. No one had eyes like that unless they were retouched by special effects experts. It must be a trick of the light, she decided.

He was inches taller than Mark and wore only a neat pair of black slacks. His feet and chest were bare. Sarah felt something very warm begin deep inside her as she looked at that chest. It was tanned and smooth. The way the flicker firelight cast shadows highlighted the definition of the abs and tempted Sarah. The sharply etched muscles seemed to demand she trace them. With hands, lips, tongue, whatever was handy. He didn’t speak but watched her for a minute before smiling. Her body reacted to that smile shamelessly. He broke eye contact and shifted his gaze to Mark.

Sara drew in a sharp breath. What is wrong with you? Mark is standing right behind you and you’re ogling some strange guy. She groaned inwardly. You’re ogling his friend, a guy he called more than a brother.

Mark’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders. She turned to steal a glance at him and saw him smiling down at her. “It’s okay Sarah. Tarris often has that effect on people, men and women. He’s one of the most beautiful beings you’ll ever see.”

She flushed bright red and covered her face with her hands. Mark’s voice came from close to her ear. “He says you are beautiful too.”

Looking up she saw the smile had widened on Tarris’ face. He nodded his agreement with Mark’s words. “But you didn’t speak.” Sarah frowned.

Tarris shook his head, his lips parting to show her straight white teeth. A shiver ran through her and sank deep into the pit of her stomach.

Mark stepped around her. He grabbed his friend in a firm embrace and the two exchanged the manliest hug Sarah had ever seen. Arm still draped around Tarris, Mark turned to her. “Tarris doesn’t speak like you or I.”

“You’re mute?” she asked and he nodded in reply. “But you can hear?”

Tarris nodded again.

“Do you use sign language?” Sarah had learned a bit of finger spelling at summer camp.

The long hair caught the firelight and shimmered as the handsome head shook, the blue eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Don’t worry, he gets his point across,” Mark said wryly, tightening his arm around his friend’s shoulders. A silent laugh shook the blond man’s shoulders. Mark turned to him. “Sarah’s head is feeling funny.” The tone of his voice was as odd as the look he gave his friend. The blue eyes opened wide as if in innocent surprise but his grin twisted up his face revealing a single dimpled cheek. “Right,” Mark said. “Sarah, why don’t you lie down. Tarris and I will have a little talk while you rest.”

“Mark it’s okay, My head will be fine.”

Tarris looked at her intently and gestured toward the bed. She didn’t need Mark to interpret. He too thought she should lie down.

“I can’t just take a nap,” she reasoned with them. “In the middle of your family’s party.”

“Sarah this “party” will go on for hours. No one will notice. Lie down, my love and rest.”

"I don’t…” She was halted by Tarris coming toward her quickly. He reached out and touched her hand. The world swayed and she found herself being swept up into two strong arms. The scent of his skin swirled in her head. He smelt overwhelmingly masculine. An indistinct combination of sandalwood, odd spices, a burning fire and the musky smell of a man’s neck as a woman curled her face into it in the afterglow of hot, passionate sex.

“Show off,” Mark snorted from where he’d already taken a seat in one of the chairs. “It’s probably the heat of the room, Sarah. Tarzan here thinks it should feel like Miami in August. Thankfully it’s winter or he’d be wearing even less.” Tarris smiled down at her gently and shook his head. His expression was playful and said clearly that Mark was positively silly and was not to be believed. He laid her carefully on the bed and slipped off her shoes before pulling a soft blanket from the foot of the bed over her. A charming curve to his lips, he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. His touch corresponded inexplicably with the thickening of the fogginess in her brain and her eyes felt heavy.

“Sweet dreams, Sarah-mine,” Mark’s voice sounded far away as she drifted off to sleep.

And dreams can be a lot of fun when there's an incubus around...

Now, run off and see what the more interesting folks have in mind. Sandra Cox has a wonderful Halloween contest running with some other great authors. Anny Cook always has great things to say. And check out Kelly Marstad for a little inspirational thought.

Beam Me Up or Just Send Hugh Jackman

Well, October 14th has come and gone and still no UFO. What am I talking about?

Australian actress and author Blossom Goodchild announced that the aliens with whom she is in contact were scheduled to make a massive 72 hour appearance in the skies over North America beginning today, October 14th. Apparently Ms. Goodchild channeled a message from aliens calling themselves the Federation of Light announcing their impending arrival.

According to Ms. Goodchild the visitors planned to hover for 72 hours so that the media would have a chance to capture their arrival on film. Tired of speculation, evidently the Federation of Light intends to stop the skeptics in their tracks. And the site of this impressive, historic and monumental display?

Alabama. Not Washington, DC. Not New York City. Not Los Angeles. Not even Orlando, Florida where they could mix freely with the characters of the ET ride at Universal Studios. Perhaps the aliens simply picked the first state in alphabetical order.

I live in Georgia just a short distance from Alabama but for my part I’m not hanging out waiting for them. And while we're at it forget the little green men, if the Aussies are going to send something our way can I suggest this:

*Sigh* You gotta love a family man.

Of course over here in Georgia we have our own eye rolling moments. It was a Georgia police officer who was in the center of the recent Big Foot scandal. Two men claimed to have found a carcass belonging to a “big foot”. The men convinced one investor to front them $50,000 to have the necessary tests done on the body to prove it’s authenticity.

In the end all the investor got for his money was a money costume that had been filled with roadkill and stuffed into a small freezer. The roadkill certainly must have made the thing smell authentic. But it turns out that the investor is having the last laugh. The monkey suit is supposedly already up to $200,000 on eBay.

Now let’s all say it together…”A fool and his money are soon parted.”

You see, many people have the mistaken idea that Southerners are somehow less intelligent than the rest of Americans. As a transplant from the Midwest I can tell you that is simply not true. But I believe the problem is directly related to how the media portrays Southerners. Oh, it’s not the media’s fault. As illustrated by the above story and as so articulately summarized by the talented Jeff Foxworthy our entire problem in the south is that we can’t keep the stupidest amongst us off the television.

I'm done, so now swing on over and see what some of the best writers out there have to say. Visit Anny Cook, Kelly Marstad and Sandy Cox.

Where Have They Gone?

George Washington. Thomas Jefferson. Abraham Lincoln. Theodore Roosevelt. Woodrow Wilson. Dwight D. Eisenhower. John F. Kennedy.

Does anyone else remember the days when the men who held the office of President of the United States were people we could be proud of? Men who were a long way from perfect, but there was an honor and integrity in our political system? These were men we could respect as leaders despite their human flaws; enough so that we carved their faces into mountains, built monuments to their accomplishments and bestowed upon them a level of respect and consideration once they left office.

Now I’m not naïve. I’m perfectly aware that part of the reasons that the populace of the United States was able to do this was two fold. First of all we didn’t see the actual political infighting that occurred. The in-party disagreements about who should or shouldn’t represent the party were kept in backrooms and private conferences. So we didn’t have months of candidates from the various parties slinging mud and insults at each other before the real election ever actually began. Secondly the lower levels of media technology meant that we didn’t have the candidate’s entire lives, good and bad, blasted into our living rooms and flying about the internet to the point of absolute saturation.

This yet another example how our sophistication as a society has robbed us of the innocence that once gave us our heroes and our icons. Should we trade it? Should we go back? Probably not. It’s tempting to want things to be simpler, to be easier. But we also have to remember that simpler and easier, that age of innocence was used against us all as a way of perpetuating institutions in our nation that we as an ethical and enlightened people cannot accept. Innocence, simplicity and ease were used to propagate slavery—not just on the basis of race but the enslavement of multiple sectors of society—and its progeny segregation, gender based discrimination, bias in housing, bias in the work place and more.

But that doesn’t mean that we have to lose that which was good from those times. We can have leaders that are worthy of respect and admiration. But I truly believe that it is up to us as the citizens. We simply have to make it clear that there is behavior we won’t accept. It doesn’t have to do with political or social positions. It doesn’t have to do with the foibles that these people may have. It has to do with refusing to accept people who cannot lead without showing respect, dignity and class.

Ping!

Yes, this is me pinging off to another topic again.

We are eight weeks and counting. Momma is getting more and more nervous. But I have to tell you I work with the greatest bunch of people in the world.

I work in a small school system that is in the Metro Atlanta area and we are getting more and more Metro all the time. But what makes this particular middle school special is that we are a family. We don't always agree with each other, we argue and we huff but we get over it and move on. We support each other and it has been wonderful. My school is such a special place that I drive an hour and a half in the morning and two hours in the afternoon to work there.

My family situation is not exactly traditional. Ward and June Cleaver we aren't. I'm not even sure we qualify as Mike and Carol Brady, though considering the current state of my house I really wish I had an Alice around to help out. But the people I work with have been tremendously supportive of me as a writer and in this journey to enlarge our family. One co-worker has already raided the sales racks at Kohls and given us a sack full of clothes sized to fit Z during the summer months. When I shook my head and told her she shouldn't have, she grinned and said they were on sale. And that was that. They are all eager and supportive of this pregnancy, asking regularly how things are going. Another lady has brought me fabric to make sheets for our Moses basket and covers for the changing pad.

And my students are also excited, but not very happy at the prospect of a long term sub. They've been making suggestions for what work I should leave them and what subs are "nice". Now I have to seriously start planning for when I'm out. What do you leave your students to do for several weeks under the teaching of someone else?

So, we are eight weeks from launch. The next couple of months will see two of my "children" meet the world. November 19th will be the release of Soul Stone, the final book in the Jewels of Ursus trilogy from Ellora's Cave and my dear little incubus Tarris will be learning to fly solo. Then, a matter of a couple of weeks later, my little Z will make his appearance.

I had the most amazing dream last night. I dreamt he was already here, I was holding him and talking to him. It was such a sweet and warm feeling to hold him. It may sound odd, but I read to Z almost every night. I read picture books. We've read Have You Got My Purr; The Monster at The End of This Book; Chrysanthemum; Llama, Llama, Red Pajamas; Don't Let the Pigeon Drive The Bus and many more.

Okay, now head on over and see what Anny Cook, Kelly Marstad and Sandra Cox have to say. And be sure to check out some of the other blogs to the left and the ones on these ladies reading lists as well. There's a lot of good stuff out there.

Love by any other name.

For some reason lately the concept of love and it's many variations has been flittering through my mind. Perhaps it's because I have that unfinished story about the gods of love sitting in my computer waiting for me to figure out how I'm pulling it all together at the end.

In doing the research for that story I learned something interesting about the Greek concepts of love. The language and the Pantheon of Greek gods showed that the Greeks recognized distinct differences in the type of love. They had different words for what we simply call love and different gods and goddesses to cover them.

We all know of Aphrodite who was the goddess of love and beauty. But the "minor" gods and the Greek language are far more interesting. Lust was governed by the very minor god Priapus. The Greeks did not revere this god greatly nor the type of "love" he ruled. The son of Aphrodite (daddy's identity ranges from Hermes to Pan to Dionysus and beyond), Priapus was the god of lust. He was taken far more seriously by the Romans and was believed to punish thieves. He is often depicted with a very large…well, not just large but grotesquely large male member.

The word eros in Greek meant passion and physical love. This is also the realm of the god Eros (Cupid). His golden tipped arrows created an obsessive physical attraction that could border on madness. His lead tipped arrows created not hate, but indifference. The son of Aphrodite and Ares, Eros was known for using his powers and his bow for revenge and his own amusement more than for the good of mankind.

Eros was a twin. His brother Anteros was the exact opposite. Anteros was the god of reasoned and returning love. His love was the mature and caring love that begins and ends in friendship, caring and compassion. Anteros was the god of agape love. Christianity has changed the meaning of this word to denote more of a love of God for mankind, but at it’s essence is the idea of a love that is fixed, constant and transcends the concerns of the physical nature.

As I said, I have a Work in Progress (WIP) that deals with the gods of love.

Excerpt:

“Please tell me you are Psyche,” said the low, pleasant voice. She turned and her eyes widened as she saw the man who stood there. The face of her Beloved was burned in her memory and this man looked enough like him to make her gasp. He leaned against the wall of a nearby structure and smiled at her. “A frightened young, pregnant woman looking confused and seemingly carrying all that she owns. Traveling in the company of two slaves, one big and brawny and one a mere boy? Looks like I’ve found you.” His shoulders were broad and his skin a deep golden color. His eyes were the color of raw honey and his smile inviting and sent a shiver up her spine. He was tall and his dark brown hair hung loosely around his face. Though the night was cold he wore only the Roman tunic that accentuated his well formed chest, the belt gathering the garment over narrow hips before it cut mid thigh. And they were marvelous thighs. Legs faintly sprinkled with fine dark hairs; powerful and strong legs that would drape themselves over a woman in the night and hold her tight to him as she slept.

Psyche reached out for Nelek’s hand and found it was trembling. He saw it too. Yuli was so frightened that he’d forgotten all about slaves and free women and had grabbed Psyche’s waist and buried his face in her cloak.

This man before them was no man. A light lit the golden eyes and spoke of power and greatness far beyond the mortal man. His light was maybe not so bright or impressive as her Beloved’s but that he was immortal was beyond doubt. His eyes held hers for a moment and a playful grin spread wider on his face. His eyes flared amber flames and she had the distinct impression of wings spread from his shoulders, black wings.

“Don’t be afraid,” he seemed to shrink instantly and the power that had terrified her pulled back inside the physical form. “You have a paper to show me, I believe?”

Psyche reached into the folds of her robes and pulled out the folded parchment. The man-god reached for it and took it from her, his hands large and narrow, long delicate fingers. He didn’t even glance at it, only held it a moment and then it was gone.

He looked at her and his smile softened. “I am Anteros.” At her blank look he shook his head and frowned. “Why is it everyone knows Eros, everyone knows that walking erection Priapus but no one knows Anteros.” When she could only shake her head and try to stammer that she was sorry, he held up his hand. “Don’t. I’ll tell you why no one knows who I am, it’s because mortals are selfish where love is concerned. Hell, the gods are selfish. Everyone thinks love just “happens,” that it is there and it will last forever because it is love. They walk around saying “love me, love me” but never think about the fact that love only prospers when it is returned. Eros himself, it is said, would not grow until after I was born to be his playmate. And I can tell you he was a puny little thing when we were young,” he winked at her conspiratorially. “Well, I, my little lady am Anteros, god of returning or opposite love. Not the opposite of love, but mature reflective love. What the Greeks call agape.”

Be sure to run over and check out Anny Cook, Amarinda Jones and Sandra Cox. They always have something interesting to say.

Baby Sounds Abound

A couple of years ago some friends of mine introduced me to a site called icanhascheezburger.com. The images on that site were a particular favorite of my friend Steve who used them in his battle for supremacy, or just survival, as the lone male in a group of female friends. Those of you who read Anny Cook or Sandra Cox’s blogs will also be familiar with this website as Anny in particular often posts pics from it. As I scanned it today I found a couple of pics that were too good to pass up and fit well with the events of my life of late.

The first one is called I Hope You Kept the Receipt. As anyone who pops by here regularly knows, we are having our first baby. We are not unfamiliar with the patter of little feet in our house, it’s just that up to now they’ve mostly been of the four footed or pawed variety. As the birth gets closer we’ve been contemplating just how we anticipate the four dogs who share our home will respond. We’ve heard lost of stories about, and seen plenty of animals at shelters because, the new baby and the pets just didn’t mesh. When it’s an issue of allergies, that’s unpredictable and tragic.

Here is how we anticipate things. Our Brittany, George, will simply look at the baby and walk away. He has no concept of pack order other than that I am the alpha and shows no interest in anything besides food, sleeping in his crate, pointing things in the backyard and occasional pets from the momma. Our Cavalier, Gracie, we foresee being her usual happy, cheerful self and trying to lick the poor babe unrelentingly. The dachshund, Wendell, will most likely be rather nervous and run about squeaking at it. It is our cocker spaniel, Shiloh, that we are most worried about. Shiloh sees her pack in the following order: Momma, Shiloh, and everyone else. She has her space on the couch next to momma and heaven help you if you’re in it. She has to sleep in the momma’s bedroom or she will bark and howl all night. Shi is on medication for separation anxiety and has significant problems with it.

We were reading the books and looking for ways to introduce the baby to the dogs. We ran across the usual advice such as bringing home a blanket that smells like the baby a day or so before baby comes home and let them smell it and get used to it. Another site suggested momma sleep with the receiving blanket one night and wrap the baby in it so the baby’s scent becomes mixed with momma’s. But it was the CD that we found in our local PetSmart that caught our eye the most.

The CD has baby sounds on it. The sounds range from soft cooing to baby talk to crying to a full blown tantrum. The idea is that you play this at increasing volumes while petting and talking to your pet so that they get used to the sounds and aren’t distressed by them. Since we love our dogs and see them as our children as well, we made a lifetime commitment to them when we adopted them, we were willing to give it a try.

Sunday night I put my laptop in the baby’s crib (which I have to remember not to call its crate or people look at you funny) and played the CD. As expected George totally ignored it and laid on the floor waiting for his Mom to rub his stomach. Gracie is mostly deaf. She can hear lower registers and feel vibrations from claps or bangs. The baby’s noises were too high for her and she had no idea what was going on, just that they had finally been allowed to sniff out the baby room. Shiloh barked a bit at first but then settled down and seemed ignore the sounds and enjoyed playing with her pack and checking out the room.

It was my dachshund who had the most profound response. Wendell ran semi circles around the crib whimpering and whining. He tried repeatedly to climb the crib sides and get to whatever was so upset. We have no sheets on the crib yet, so I lifted him up and let him investigate the inside. (Yes, I later wiped it down.) He ran back and forth and finally fixated on one of the hippo decals on the wall. He growled at it and barked at it, keeping himself between the crying laptop and the hippo. I think he believed that whatever was wrong, it was Mr. Hippo’s fault.

The experience was reassuring and amusing for the most part. Wendell and momma will be repeating the exercise until he settles down a bit about the sounds. Oh, the nursery is done. I finally finished the curtains, which I sewed by hand and have only the quilt (which you can’t really use anyway) left to do. I’d post pictures but it’s really very simply done and my batteries just died on my digital camera.

Writing wise, I want to thank everyone who made Lover’s Stone such a well received book. I recently saw my sales figures and was so wonderfully surprised and pleased. Thank you all. I really am still in awe that anyone wants to read my stories and even more flabbergasted that people are willing to buy them. The final book in the Ursine trilogy, Soul Stone, will be released November 19th (my birthday and just a few days before Smudgie will be making his appearance). There will be a contest to go along with it featuring a pendant and earrings as a prize. Soul Stone is not a “Jewel” but it does feature a stone just as the other two did. This time an opal, as when I was writing it I had anticipated it to be an October Jewel. However, Tarris—our hero—was not going to be satisfied with the shorter word count required by the Jewels and demanded his own full-length novel.

Be sure to check out Amarinda Jones, Anny Cook, Sandra Cox and Kelly Kirch for more interesting stuff and just a good bit of fun.

Acheron, a Dark-Hunter Addict's confession

I finally finished reading Acheron by Sherrilyn Kenyon. I had several other books on tap that I had to finish before I could read it. The first 400 pages are about Acheron's life prior to the present. Those pages were hard to read. Not because the book wasn't well written, compelling or paced well but because Acheron is one of my absolute favorite characters and reading about the horrors of his past was disturbing.

Beyond the joy that all Kenyon fans felt that Ash finally got his HEA, there were images of the cool, totally zen, philosophical, kick-ass leader of the Dark-Hunters/God of Fate that were so heart touching that you remembered again why you fell in love with the character whose image is that of the ultimate preditor. One of his men even refers to him as T-Rex. But the glimpses of him away from the Dark-Hunter world where his absolute adoration and love of children and the true extent of his loyalty to his men and his committment to mankind as a whole were put center stage were priceless and brilliant on Kenyon's part. And brave on her part.

It was great to see all the characters we have come to know and love flitter in and out of this picture of Ash's life and to see the man who thought he stood alone, finally recognize that he wasn't and hadn't been for some time.

So we Kenyon Minions will continue to await her next book with excitement (Fury's book is coming out at Christmas! I'm so blasted excited I could squeal. I love me some Fury Kattalakis). We will continue to take that second look at the very tall, leather clad guy with long hair as he straddles his motorcyle or slides behind the wheel of his ride and entertain the fantasy of what if...

Oh, and one more important thing. Be careful with your carbonated beverages. Who knew Atlantean gods couldn't hold their Sprite?

First Day of School

My kiddies had their first day of school today. Everything went relatively smoothly and I didn't have to threaten anyone with my body bag. Just kidding. They were all on their best behavior today, we'll see how long that lasts.

(I had a very cool comic graphic for you, but blogger doesn't want to upload graphics today. What a shame.)

I have very little voice right now. I'm not sure how much of it was from having to talk all day and how much of it was from the activities engaged in last night. The SO had been dying to see a concert called Projekt Revolution. It was an all day music event with 10 or so bands including Linkin Park, Chris Cornell, The Bravery, Armor for Sleep, Hawthorne Heights, etc. Unfortunately said concert was scheduled on the day before the first day of school. I tried for months to get out of it, suggesting that my darling find someone at work to go. No luck. I was petulantly told that this was the last time we'd get to do something like this because we would have the baby.

True. I have no plans to take a baby to a rock concert and damage it's hearing. Of course from the way Smudgie was kicking during the concert he's either an aspiring music critic or he was having a good time too. He was quiet until Chris Cornell came on, then got quiet through most of Linkin Park but started kicking up a storm during the LP encore. I'm concerned he had his own little mosh pit going on in there.

The concert was terrific. We were in the first section infront of the stage, just about 10 rows back. Loud, bright lights, and lots of fun. I did find it a bit depressing when Chris Cornell came on. I remember him from ages ago, back when he fronted for SoundGarden. I looked at him and couldn't help but think, "Damn Dude, we got old." No criticism of him. Now that he's given up that dorky spiked hair and grown it out again he looks good. Really good. But neither he nor I are spring chickens any longer. It was cute, from our angle I could see his kids with their protective head gear dancing along to dad.

Of course the kids around us were interesting. Just like when GreenDay released their last, today's teens and preteens think they "discovered them." SNORT! I used to have a GreenDay button that said, "I was listening to GreenDay when you were in diapers." I felt the same way last night. The teens and early 20 somethings were looking at us older folks like, "What are you doing here?" My students when I introduced myself and told a bit about me were shocked to find out I'd attended the concert last night.

So I'm about to take my "I was up til 2am and then back up at 5am" backside to bed. My SO is so sweet to me the first day of school. A dinner I didn't have to cook, a hot shower, and a foot rub I didn't even have to ask for. {hugs precious} Can you hear the teeth grinding from there? Precious isn't exactly someone's favorite endearment. Something about it sounding prissy. *giggle*

Now run along and check out the blogs by Anny Cook, Amarinda Jones, Kelly Kirch and Sandra Cox. Lots of good stuff.

Nancy Hunter and New Reviews

Got a very nice review from Dawn Epton at ParaNormal Romance for Lovers' Stone. Thanks so much Dawn for the nice words. I appreciate it and I'm glad you enjoyed the book.

This was an intriguing twist on the Were legends, or at least a variety I have never heard before. I really liked the way the author set polar opposites to attract and be mated. I really enjoyed the erotic passages and each of them was well thought out. I love the tenderness and compassion in this story as well as the passion. Each character's take on what was happening was thoughtful as well as thought provoking. I would love it if this story was a little longer, but I guess I'll just have to wait for the next installment of the story.

Thanks again. The final book in the trilogy will be released November 19th and is titled Soul Stone. Soul Stone will follow Tarris the incubus and reveal what really happened the night the youngest Ursine brother died, an event that lead to the rift between Mark and Luke, the twin Bears whose stories are told in Mating Stone and Lovers' Stone.

Speaking of which, Tamic who won the free copy of Mating Stone needs to contact me at jae@jacquelineroth.com to claim her book.

Cerridwen Press writer Nancy Hunter has offered to share a bit about her new release Tasting Liberty with us. It fits perfect with the historical trend I've been on lately.

Book Info:
Taste of Liberty
by Nancy Hunter
Cerridwen Press
ISBN: 978 14199 17394

Buy Link:
http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419917394

Blurb:
In a time of war and loss, tragedy unites two enemies who seek vengeance but find love, only to learn that it was never their destiny to be together…

Liberty MacRae, daughter of an American Revolutionary, and Sebastian Cole, a British soldier, share a vendetta against the brutal British commander who killed their loved ones. Each brings a special gift to their quest – Liberty has a second sight that allows her to predict death, and Sebastian is a Fated One, a man who died before he could kill his enemy and has been sent back by the spirits to complete the task. When they fall in love, they have to find a way to defeat not only the murderer, but destiny as well - a destiny that demands that Sebastian either forfeit his life to defeat his enemy or forfeit his soul. Can they find a way to change their destiny before Liberty’s most harrowing premonition - that of her lover’s death - comes true?

Excerpt:

Libbie would have screamed but her throat was frozen in fear. Death had hurled itself at her, had stumbled, had— Landed in an azalea bush? She was still shaking, still felt the cold fear curled in the pit of her belly but the bright strands of red hanging in the air had dissipated. The death that had lurked just beyond Lady Jane’s garden was no longer there. And the creature who had frightened her beyond reason and was now struggling to right himself looked uncannily like one of her dinner companions.

Libbie shook again but this time with laughter. She wiped away the tears that had begun to dry on her cheeks. With the threat gone, she felt light again and joyful and invincible. She reached down into the azalea bush and grasped Mr. Cole’s hand to help him stand.

“Miss MacRae, are you hurt? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He stopped to catch his breath.

Libbie covered her smile with one hand and nodded. “I’m fine,” she finally managed to say. “I daresay you bore the brunt of our unfortunate encounter.”

He was breathing normally now. “I do apologize for that. It’s just that I heard a noise and I…” He shook his head.

Libbie took a step back from him, hoping to shrink into the shadows. He had heard her crying like a baby, like a lunatic driven insane by the full moon. Like the aberration of nature that she was. But somehow she didn’t want Mr. Cole to know the truth about her, to believe anything bad about her at all. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, although he truly was. His black hair shimmered in the moonlight, his dark blue eyes were so wide and intense that she felt she could fall into them. He was much taller than she, broad-shouldered and lean. A sleek black panther, tense and still but ready to spring into action at any second.

“Miss MacRae?”

Libbie realized he was proffering his arm to her.

“I asked if I may escort you back to the party.”

She nodded and took his arm. As they walked slowly up the garden path, Libbie struggled to find a reason to explain her previous state.

“Were you lost?” Mr. Cole asked quietly.

“Pardon me?”

“On the garden path. I thought you might have been lost, trying to find your way back to the house.”

“Yes, I was… I mean, I got turned around on the path.” She smiled up at him. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck, to kiss him and thank him for not making her explain herself as she so often had to do. To kiss him…

“Here we are,” he said as they stepped onto the veranda. “I wonder if I might ask one favor of you, Miss MacRae.”

“Anything,” she said quickly, then blushed.

Mr. Cole smiled. “It seems you stepped outside just before we were to share a dance.”
Yes. It all came back to her. She hadn’t wanted to dance with him. The things he’d made her feel, even from across the room when she’d first seen him, the touch of his hand as he escorted her to dinner, the sound of his laughter as he sat next to her. Something about Mr. Cole made her want to say and do strange things, like kiss him in the garden and dance with him on the veranda. But then he had mentioned her father…

He stepped back from her and stood in position for their dance. Libbie decided she had been overreacting to an innocent comment and obligingly curtsied to him as he bowed to her. They started a minuet, one Libbie had danced dozens of times but she couldn’t quite keep the rhythm. The song was slow but she was breathless. As they stepped back and then forward another time, her knees bent under her against her will as another vision pressed in on her. Before she sank to the ground, she felt Sebastian’s arms around her waist, pulling her against him, and the vision faded.

“Miss MacRae, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It’s just the heat. It’s unseasonably warm this evening, don’t you agree?”

“And you had a fright earlier.”

“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, steadying herself and pushing away from him. “You merely stumbled over me and I’ve recovered.”

“I meant before that. You were afraid of something. You went out into the garden alone and got frightened.”

“I go many places alone and I assure you I don’t frighten easily.”
“Perhaps then you should frighten more easily, because the world can be a very dangerous place.”

Libbie widened her eyes in shock. “I’m more aware of that than you’ll ever know, Mr. Cole. I’ve seen things that…”

She looked away from him. It was more than seeing things. It was feeling unbearable pain, reliving deaths died a hundred years ago and yesterday, feeling evil coming but not knowing when or where it would arrive. She looked him in the eye. “I don’t need a lecture from you about it.”

He grabbed her shoulders and stared at her with the same determination she saw in her father’s and brother’s faces when they wanted to convince her that she needed their protection. But as she stared up into Sebastian’s dark, hooded eyes, his look changed. Determination seemed to give way to confusion, then to resignation as he leaned closer to her. His soft breath brushed her cheek, his fingertips caressed her shoulders. Libbie closed her eyes, willing him to come closer, to actually kiss her.

http://www.nancyhunterbooks.com/
www.myspace.com/nancyhunterbooks
Taste of Liberty available NOW at Cerridwen Press

And don't forget to check out the blogs and books for other great writers such as Anny Cook and Amarinda Jones who have new Ellora's Cave releases, Kelly Kirch who has just launched the print edition of Marriage Plot from Replendence Publishing and Sandra Cox whose wonderful stories just might move you to tears.

Something New

Midnight tonight is the deadline for getting a comment entered into the drawing for a free copy of Mating Stone by Elyssa Edwards. The second book in that trilogy, Lovers' Stone, was released this month from Ellora's Cave. Each comment gets you entered. If you've read Mating Stone and want another title, just let me know.

I've been doing a lot of promo for Elyssa Edwards, the name under which I write erotic romance because the last three releases have been from Ellora's Cave. But I do write not quite erotica, fantasy/paranormal romance as Jacqueline Roth. As myself, because I really am Jae Roth, I've written and released two books for Cerridwen Press. The first, Access Denied was a labor of love and stands alone. It's not part of any series of books. James, the hero, will always own my heart, but it took a while for him to open his to the heroine I had planned for him. So much pain and misery had led him to give up on himself and life.

The second, Measure of Healing was the first book written in my little Weres/gifted humans world, The Children of Semira. It stands on its own and you don't need to have read anything else to read it. It focuses on a Were-Cougar who finds himself responsible for a traumatized Cougar child and no one to turn to but a human doctor. She is his only hope to help the boy. Only problem is that Dr. Gabriela St. Jerome's secrets are far more dangerous than any that Alejandro might hold. So dangerous they could just get them all killed.

Bet you thought I was gonna give you and excerpt from Measure of Healing, right? Nope. Today it's something absolutely new. I'm going to give you a taste of the second book in the series that is contracted with Cerridwen, but is still in my editor's capable and brilliant hands awaiting edits. It follows the young Wolf introduced at the end of Measure. It will be a stand alone so no worries. Oh, and if you did read Measure, just know that Damian Santiago will get his own story eventually. He just has to wait until all the pieces are in place for it.

But for now allow me to introduce you to Evan Forester.

Excerpt from Circle of Wolves:

“What the hell is going on?” Sethlin Lasater came storming, or rather rolling, into Evan’s room letting the door slam back against the wall. A long ago accident had left him confined to a wheelchair, his lower body twisted and withered. “Ryder comes storming in with Singer and they lock themselves, and you, in his workroom. You come back out ten minutes later and start packing. Exactly where are you going?”

“Europe,” Evan answered without looking up from his task.

“Why?” Seth insisted.

“I have to find them.”

“Find them?” Seth’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean what I think you mean? Are you actually going to try to find…” his voice broke off as he read the answer in his friend’s posture. They were actually going through with this ridiculous plan? Ryder, Guardians forgive him, had gone crazy and was taking Evan with him.

“Evan, you don’t have to do this.” Seth watched his friend continue to throw items of clothing into a bag. “It’s asking a lot.”

“You’d do it.” Evan glanced over at his friend then back to his packing. “You’d do it without a second thought.”

“Would I? Are you so sure about that?” Seth’s words stopped him. He looked down at the sea green eyes that were narrowed and watching him carefully. “It’s dangerous Evan.”

“But you know as well as I do that I have to go. I have to try. Someone has to make these people see reason. If we can’t do that, we are going to lose credibility, lose our place. Pulling off this little coup is the best way and maybe the only way to prove we still control things.” He shook his head, “Come on, Seth, we know what Ian really is. We know what lies behind that simpering smile even if the rest of the world doesn’t. It’s our obligation.”

“So you’re going to let him exploit your…” his friend’s voice trailed off and he looked away.

“My deformity,” Evan offered calmly as he resumed his packing. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Seth? Am I going to let Master Ryder exploit the fact that I am a nasty, snarling, dirty little monster one night a month to get what he wants?”

His friend looked up at him startled. “Evan, you know none of us thinks of you that way. You can’t help what you are and we’ve loved you almost your whole life despite it. Don’t you know that? Don’t you get it?”

Evan shook his light brown hair out of his face, “Don’t you get it, Seth? We’re only holding our place as the highest circle by a thread. Like it or not, fair or not, the world sees Ian’s new rank as Julien’s failure.” Evan’s mouth twisted into a wry grin, “Though I’d love to see the idiot fool enough to say that to Julien’s face.” He met Seth’s eyes, “And since everyone still believes, no matter the truth or not, that Julien is Master Ryder’s son, the failure is his too. If we can pull off this alliance, get the werewolves to agree to cooperate, it will solidify our position once again. More importantly it will solidify our master’s position.”

“How can you unite a bunch of people you can’t find? You have no idea who is or isn’t a werewolf unless he tells you or you’re caught out on a moonlight stroll at the wrong time of the month.” Evan could smell Seth’s frustration hanging heavy in the air. He could hear it in the deepening of the soft Southern twang in his voice.

“That’s why I have to be the one that goes. I can tell.” Evan tapped his nose. That sensory organ, along with his ears, was heightened by what his mother had euphemistically called his “special nature.”

“So you’re going to walk up to everyone on the European continent and say, “Mind if I sniff you?” Or,” Seth scowled, “Gee I can tell from your smell you’re a werewolf, wanna come submit humbly to absolute control and oppression? We don’t give a shit about you, but hey, we’re the good guys. Come help us shore up our faltering dynasty.”

Evan sighed. The mage conclave that had been held last week, in addition to sparking what looked to be a nasty power struggle, wanted tighter controls on werewolves and other dark creatures. Seth had come swooping down on him as soon as the announcement was made public, demanding to know what he was going to do about it. What was he supposed to do about it? Any action on his part would jeopardize everything he had built the last couple of years. Hell, it could destroy everything for which he had spent his life struggling. “You’ve been ranting about the conclave for the last week. This is what I’m doing about it, Seth. I owe our master everything I have. He didn’t have to take me in. He could have turned my parents away, or more so, turned them into the conclave for hiding a werewolf. But he didn’t, he took me into his own home and trained me. I won’t risk what I have for anyone, not even others like me. If that’s selfish, then so be it. I like my life Seth. It’s much more than I ever thought I’d have.”

His friend looked at him sadly but smiled. It was a weak smile, but a smile. “You deserve to be a bit selfish, Evan. God knows you’ve never done anything remotely selfish before. But I have to tell you, taking on this assignment doesn’t seem very selfish to me. It seems damned well noble and fool-hardy.” Seth looked away from him and frowned. “How will they welcome you, Evan? If you do find one of these mysterious packs, how will they welcome you?”

“I’m not sure, Seth. I’m not sure.”

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