Monday, November 25, 2013

Interesting But Productive Day

Down Town Talbot's Peak

It has been an interesting but productive day. I wrote, a little over a thousand words on one manuscript which is currently still untitled, and added almost fifteen hundred to another, titled "Quick-Fix Wedding." Quick-Fix-Wedding started out being a stand-alone novella, but is now a tie-in to the world of Talbot's Peak, Montanna, a shape shifter town, which is featured over on the blog I co-write with four other authors, called ShapeSifter Seductions. I'm posting it over there bit by bit and once I've got it polished, I'll be offering it as a free read as a sort of Christmas present to all our readers. More info on that to come.

I also am trying to make a map of the town of Talbot's Peak. The above picture is
one shot of down town Talbot's Peak. It's looking a little rough and unfinished, but I'll get there. I'm having to teach myself Daz Studios 4.6 as I go because, well, it's just silly for me to still be working in the old Daz3 environment. And it's still free right now. So, I'm relearning how to manipulate stuff. I'm not sure playing with 3D software counts as work, though, since it's actually more of a hobby. (The other two pics are examples of what I do to relax! Their quality compared to today's creation should give you an idea of why I'm not entirely happy with the town scene.)

That's about it as far as newsy bits for right now. I'll close this out with a sneak peek at the afor mentioned untitle WIP and wish you all a wonderful thanksgiving week!

~ Rebecca

Sneak Peek:

"Mercy," Jarod Black muttered thickly past a split lip and chattering teeth. He was cold and in pain, his whole body throbbing from the earlier fall off his horse. He'd fallen into the river, which had saved him from a broken neck and his pursuers had fished him out of the icy water, sparring him from drowning. The long ride back to Castle Blanche while wet and tightly bound had spared him nothing.
Perhaps the lord of the castle would spare him death. After all, Jarod hadn't actually stolen anything. It was splitting hairs but that was about all he had going for him at the moment. Though, in all honesty, it was more than he'd had going for him for a long time. He'd found adventure and made a name for himself but had nothing to show for it.
"Mercy for a thief?" Lord Morgan repeated archly.
"I stole nothing," Jarod said mulishly, knowing it was not the correct thing to say but unable to stop himself.
"Except for one of my horses," his lordship shot back. Jarod started to shrug but flinched when the motion jostled his throbbing shoulder. he clamped his eyes shut and fought the nausea that stewed in his belly.
"You got it back," he gasped through the pain.
"Because you fell off," his lordship replied. Jarod hung his head as the nausea turned to a cold sweat, really not a good thing considering the chill he had from being dunked in the icy river. He knew Lord Morgan was waiting to hear his next rejoinder but he was having trouble thinking as the shock of his injuries finally caught up with him.
"Mercy, then," he heard Lord Morgan say distantly, as though from far away down a muzzy, echoing cavern. He was fainting, Jarod realized just as he struck the ground. How undignified...
Lord Morgan looked down at the silver-tongued thief before him. Oh, he knew Jarod  Black, or rather he knew of him. The knight-turned-mercenary was becoming very notorious for his willingness to take on jobs with little success, primarily because he always managed to scrape through. Not this time, of course. Morgan's guards had caught Black trying to scale the inner courtyard wall. But he did usually manage to pull off impossible jobs and might have succeeded this time had the moon not been full and the sky clear. The pale stone walls of Castle Blanche fairly glowed in moon light, making anyone trying to scale it's walls stand out like a dark smudge on a white cloth.
What Morgan didn't know was who had hired Black and what he'd been after. Morgan was a thoroughly boring noble of the northern realm. He had no secrets and was involved in no intrigues. Unless Jarod Black had tried to break in just for the challenge of being able to say he stole into Castle Blanche. Which he didn't. Morgan sighed, knowing that the source of any answers was laying injured at his feet. He nodded to his seneschal to call the man closer.
"Have him brought in to the solar and send for the healer."
"Is that wise, milord?" Albie asked nervously. Morgan eyed the stooped, elderly man who had served his father and his father's father before that. The man was a capable caretaker of the castle but had never been overly bold.
"Do you know what he was after?" he asked.
"Ah, no, milord. I can't say as I do," Albie said shaking his head.
"Neither do I," Morgan replied. He nudged the thief's prone form with the side of his booted foot. "But he does. It might be easier to get it out of him if he's alive, don't you think?"

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Random News and an Exerpt

Bits of random news first:

Blog hop winners! As you may or may not know, I participated in the Snarkology Blog Hop both here and with my writting group on ShapeShifter Seductions, so I have two winners to announce. Eva Millien was the winning commenter here. Eva, check your e-mail. The commenter who won a copy of my back list on ShapeShifter Seductions was Jean MP, who didn't leave an e-mail address. Jean, I sent you a chat on Blogger with my e-mail address. Shoot me an e-mail to claim your prize, or leave a comment here.

Next bit of random news, "Catching the Hunter" is now live on It's also on sale, so at the moment, you can pick up both my second and third books for $3.19, or 20% off. Here's the shorty link to Amazon's page. (Because the long link was freaking HUGE!)

Last bit of news, I finally picked what I'm going to submit next: a menage werewolf/darkling story about a young noble woman who is not interested in being a "lady" and so buys a werewolf pack in order to set herself up a person of power in her own right. I'm doing the polishing on it now and should be ready to submit it soon. Cross your fingers!

And last but not least, an exerpt from "Catching the Hunter"

* * * * *

“Where are we?” Sorsha asked uncertainly, drawn out of her thoughts by curiosity when he led her toward a side branch of the castle complex. “I thought you were going to a bathhouse.” The hunt lord turned back and smiled at her mischievously, his sapphire blue eyes glowing. Her breath caught in her chest. It was inconceivable that one as scary as this buck should be so sexy.
“Eddie calls this the kennel. It’s a seldom used barracks off the side of House Argental,” he replied as he offered her his arm. She was about to refuse him until she saw that there were no steps leading to the elevated lava tube. This stupid servant dress wouldn’t allow her to jump the two foot distance, so she accepted.
“Who is Eddie?” she asked. Sorsha was beginning to feel like a fool for all her questions, but he never seemed to offer information without prompting. She was probably lucky he was answering at all. Her brother was a good example of a male who never felt the need to explain himself.
“The houndsman who thinks a bog-zobber pen is a suitable holding cell for traitors,” the shifter lord answered with a playful wink. She shook her head. Story after story told how hard and vicious the wild lords of the hunt were. How uncivilized, inhospitable, and surly they could be. This one was none of those things. He actually seemed to have a deliciously wicked sense of humor. She was beginning to wish she’d met him under other circumstances.
“Does he by chance have red hair?” she asked, sensing a theme.
“He does,” he agreed. “Met him, have you?”
“And…um…who are—I mean I should have asked already. The hum—I mean, Eddie—he said you sometimes were called—”
“I’m called Conchobar by many. You may call me Connor,” he cut in. She blushed at the wry twinkle in his eye. “And you are called?”
“Um, Sorsha. Of the Darach clan,” she replied shyly.
“Pleased to meet you, Sorsha of the Darach clan. This”—he paused, waving his arm—“is my home away from home. Or at least where I stay when I’m in Bhaithcreig.”
“I guess I never thought about wild lords staying in a city,” she admitted. “It doesn’t fit with the image of a powerful shifter who prefers to roam the forests of Annwn as a wolf.” He rewarded her observation with an amused snigger.
“We do prefer to roam the forests of Annwn. But we also have duties which bring us here from time to time now that the high lord resides here.”
He paused outside a rough opening and waved her ahead of him. Sorsha slipped around him through the low entrance into a steamy cavern. Her cautious curiosity gave way to awe. The cavern was completely unimproved and had a good sized hot spring filling most of the available floor space. Clouds of rolling steam swirled invitingly, obscuring most of the chamber. For a doe born and raised in the chilly forests of the northwest, it was a dream come true, a hot bath big enough to get lost in.
Connor slipped in beside her as she stood there gawking like a fool. Her attention was drawn back to him when he began undressing. She had to remind herself to breathe as he unfastened his tartan, folding it as he took it off. Without the yards of black wool in the way, she got an excellent view of his muscular buttock, still covered by the thin leather of his kilt.
“Wh–what are you doing?” she stammered as he bent over to unfasten the ties on his boots, presenting her with a spectacular view of his heavenly rear. He looked back at her from under his arm, a sexy smirk lifting one side of his mouth.
“I don’t usually bathe in my clothes,” he purred.
“Oh!” she exclaimed self-consciously. “Right. Bath and a feeding.” She tried to ignore the sensual thrill at the mental image of him feeding from her while they bathed, then realized she was allowed to enjoy this.