Comment on any Rogues Angels post from today to March 17, and you will be entered to win.
Rogues Angels will have drawings through January, February, and March. Grand prizes to be awarded on Valentines Day and St. Patrick's Day.Prizes
Gift Cards
Name in next anthology (pending, I'm pulling for May Day)
Bookmarks
Downloads of past anthologies
More gifts pending
About the Author
Born in Medford, Oregon, novelist Christine Young has lived in Oregon all of her life. After graduating from Oregon State University with a BS in science, she spent another year at Southern Oregon State University working on her teaching certificate, and a few years later received her Master's degree in secondary education and counseling. Now the long, hot days of summer provide the perfect setting for creating romance. She sold her first book, Dakota's Bride, the summer of 1998 and her second book, My Angel to Kensington. Her teaching and writing careers have intertwined with raising three children. Christine's newest venture is the creation of Rogue Phoenix Press. Christine is the founder, editor and co-owner with her husband. They live in Salem, Oregon.
From the Valentines' Day Anthology
Excerpt The Gift
"Get in the house, now!"
"Mama?"
Elice Weld shielded her eyes and watched the ground fog rising in the distance. She didn't know what was coming her way, but she could guess. The rumors that a Union cavalry unit was in the vicinity had spread like a wildfire on a Kansas prairie.
Rain had fallen all morning. Now the clouds had separated, and the sun heated the earth, causing the evaporation of the water-soaked ground. The cavalry rode through the mist like dark, avenging wraiths bent on the destruction of all mankind. She could see seven men silhouetted on the horizon.
"Izzy, go." Elice didn't want to frighten her daughter but the urgency of the moment could not be denied.
"But mama?"
"Go to the cellar. Now."
"It's dark."
Izzy's voice echoed in Elice's head, filling her with a wild panic she didn't know how to stop. Every time soldiers approached she was terrified. The last four years had been the longest years of her life. "Do as I say, quickly." Elice hugged her daughter, turning her at the same moment and with a gentle shove sent her through the open door of her house.
"Izzy."
Elice knew the panic in her voice would mobilize her young daughter. She despised the fear and the terror. She loathed the war. She looked up. The fog was dissipating, and she could see the dark blue of the Union coats. She didn't have anything left for the soldiers to take. Good God, they'd taken everything already--everything save her daughter and her hope for the future.
She inhaled a quick breath then stood on the steps, hands folded together in front of her, watching the dark wraiths inch closer. She knew from experience she couldn't fight these men. She would do as they said and when they left, she would put the pieces of her life back together.
Until the next time…
"Mama," Elice jumped when her daughter tugged on her skirt before looking at her with sorrow-filled eyes. "Are the soldiers going to take my doll?"
"No," Elice ruffled her little girl's hair. "Go back inside. Go to the cellar and don't come out until I tell you it's safe."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine." But Elice knew she might be lying to her child. She wasn't always fine when the soldiers invaded their home. "Now go and don't make me say it again. Stay there until I come for you."
About the Author
C.(hristie) L. Kraemer
Aka
Celia Cooper
Three contemporary romance novels written under the nom de plume, Celia Cooper: Old Enough to Know Better; Sun in Sagittarius, Moon in Mazatlan; and If Only were gifts from the writing gods. A fourth novel, Cats in the Cradle of Civilization, written as C. L. Kraemer is her first venture to the mystery genre. Wings ePress, Inc. is the publisher of these four offerings.
Healthy Homicide, the October 2008 launch book for a new publishing house, RoguePhoenixPress, picks up the torch again in the mystery world. In February 2010, she contributed writings to two Valentine’s Anthologies at RoguePhoenixPress: A Valentine Anthology, with The Lending Library and A Different Kind of Valentine with The Prize.
She completed the base story in a Dragon fantasy series, Dragons Among Us, for RoguePhoenix Press. The second in the series, Dragons Among the Eagles, was released June 2011.
Meadows of Gold, another faerie story, was released March 2011 as part of A St Patrick’s Day Tale. A novel based on one of the first mass shootings, which took place in Salem, Oregon in 1981, Shattered Tomorrows, was released August 2011. Currently in the works for publication is a commuter book featuring a motorcycle poker run, Joker’s Wild, and the third in the dragon series, Dragons Among the Ice.
For more information, visit:
From The Valentines Day Anthology
Excerpt
One
Ailidh wobbled precariously on her high heels.
Kayne smirked. “Having problems, dear?”
“Shut up!” she snapped. “I need to practice this until I get it right. We don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice, too.”
He stopped and steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the closed leather shoes that encased them.
“I don’t know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs.
“Worst of all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand.” Kayne grumbled.
Ailidh sighed and slowly, patiently explained to him, once again, why they were practicing.
“Remember last Wednesday when Keegan and Connal lost their dwelling? The sound of their tree crashing to the ground was deafening. The Others are moving out more and more. We will lose our own home if we don’t act first. Now, put your shoes back on and walk for just five more minutes.”
Kayne wrestled his shirt off and threw it to the porch’s deck. He pulled the long pants off his body and left them in a heap next to the shirt. Bending forward, he touched his toes gingerly as he gradually unfurled his lacey wings. Slowly, he pulled himself to an upright position. Shoulders back, wings completely expanded, he lifted his 18-inch form to its full height and looked at Ailidh defiantly.
“I don’t need to fit into the Others world. They need to adjust themselves to my world and leave us alone.”
Ailidh, teetering, grabbed the lower railing of the porch and shook her head.
“Kayne. Most of the Others don’t even know we exist. How can they adjust to something they don’t even believe?”
“They adjust to animals, don’t they?”
“The animals chose to be seen. We did not. Remember? Our great, great grandfathers took a vote and decided we would endanger ourselves more if we continued to be visible to the Others. At that time, they didn’t have all the machinery they have now. They moved into our lands at a slower pace. Now, put on the clothes and try to adjust.”
“No.” Kayne kicked at the clothing on the porch. “I’m going to get a magazine and a cup of coffee. You can stand here and practice day and night for all I care.”
He turned on his heel and lifted himself off the ground with his delicate appendages. He lazily winged his way into the open window of the building marked Lending Library.
Hovering until he landed on the balls of his feet, he folded the wings tight to his torso and walked to the corner of the building signed Coffee Shop. He sat in a small chair snugged close to the matching table. Sliding the Newsweek someone had tossed on the table toward him, he flipped through the pages. Minimized for easier handling, the magazine was still large enough to require both of his hands to turn the pages. A diminutive nymph in a waitress uniform with a “Chrissy” nametag took his order for a latte. Ten minutes later, she returned with the steaming liquid in a cup.
“Thanks Chrissy,” Kayne picked up the cup carefully and took a sip.
“No problem, Kayne,” she had a surprisingly deep voice for a nymph. “Where’s Ailidh?”
Kayne jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the front porch.
“Practicing,” he grunted.
“Oh,” Chrissy mopped the table next to Kayne’s with a wet rag then flew daintily to the kitchen with the dirty cups and saucers she’d picked up. One of the resident dryads of the valley, Chrissy was living in the tree behind the Lending Library. Her home across the meadow had been one of the first destroyed.
Ailidh is right. Kayne frowned at the silent admission. The Others were invading his world with frightening swift, uncaring swaths into the forestlands. Soon there wouldn’t be an Ancient tree left. While, at a glance, their movements seemed random, even careless, Kayne had noted a pattern, albeit haphazard, to their actions. Months earlier he’d watched from a safe distance as the huge screeching yellow machines ripped up his ancient wood friends and squashed their bodies beneath armored tracks. He could never be sure whether the squealing had been the old trees or the vicious yellow machines. After the first occasion of watching as they destroyed a sea of Ancients, Kayne had left on shaky wings and flown home. Ailidh was furious at him, thinking he’d been with his friends drinking honeysuckle wine. He couldn’t stop throwing up long enough to tell her what he’d seen.
When the thunder and growl of the angry yellow tree destroyers rumbled over their living room ceiling several months later, Kayne sat Ailidh down and explained what had happened that fateful night.
He took her soft, dainty hand in his and looked into her sparkling moss green eyes.
“We must be prepared to move from our home.”
Ailidh’s exquisite wings trembled. “Why?”
The earth near the entrance to their home groaned and bits of dirt drizzled from around the doorway.
Kayne pointed up. “That—that—monster will reach into our home and pluck us up with no regard whatsoever. I’ve seen it rip out the Ancient trees in the glen over by Drystan’s home.
“The night you thought me so drunk I could not speak, I was ill from watching The Others kill the Ancient trees and destroy homes of our friends. I just couldn’t stop being sick long enough to explain to you. When I finally got the horror of that picture out of my mind and stopped throwing up, you’d gone to bed--angry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Ailidh’s face blanched and she slumped to the cloth-covered chair Kayne had so carefully carved from a branch the Ancient tree had gifted them.
“Wh-wh-why? We’ve not harmed them. Why do they want to rip out our homes and make us move?”
“I don’t know my love, but we’ve got to find a way to fight back or we’ll be next.”
Kayne had soothed Ailidh’s fears that night, but she began a campaign to move to Faetown and get out of the meadow and woods they called home.
Kayne sighed. She’d get her way and they’d move, but he wasn’t going without a fight.
He felt a soft rush of air caress his cheek and looked up to find Ailidh alighting gently on her bare feet, her toes inflamed and angry looking.
He nodded to her. “Better get the Librarian to wrap those before they swell too much. Wouldn’t want to put your shoes in the rubbish bin.” Licking several fingers, he turned the page, the crinkle of the slick paper echoing off the wall of books.
When his smarmy comment met with silence, Kayne looked up to see a large tear meandering down Ailidh’s cheek. He dropped the magazine to the table and hung his head pushing out air between his lips. He’d done it again. He’d hurt the one woman who put up with his attitude and still loved him. Most women of the Fae would have kicked out his boastful self long ago not tolerating his pride and pomposity. Not Ailidh. She’d just look at him with those enormous sparkling moss green eyes, pat his hand and kiss his cheek. Kayne, unlike most Fae men, preferred one mate and one mate only. He never had understood the need to wing from inviting mossy bed to inviting mossy bed.
He reached out and grabbed the wayward drop heading toward the fine line of Ailidh’s jaw.
“I’m sorry my love. Let’s see if the Librarian has something to ease the pain.” Kayne lifted himself from the chair and fluttered to the back of the building.
On the door was a sign. It read: “Rap loudly. Human hearing.”
Kayne pounded on the door, settled himself on the floor, and waited.
Slowly the big door opened; before him stood a giant of a person. He sucked in a deep breath and felt his wings tremble.
Pulling up a stool, the giant Librarian sat. She was nearly at his eye level. A gentle smile touched her lips and crinkled her gray eyes. The essence of wild roses swirled lightly on the air.
“Kayne. How can I help you?”
Her soft voice purred quietly to his keen hearing.
Kayne opened his mouth but nothing came out. He coughed, stepped back then winged himself up a foot. At this level, he was looking in to the kind eyes.
“Ailidh… Ailidh has been practicing with those high heel shoes, and now her feet are swollen and hurting. Do you have something that would help?”
Linda thought for a moment. “I do believe I have something to ease her pain. I also have some Epson salts you can take with you so she can use them tonight. Wait here.”
Rising from the step stool slowly, she walked to the back of the small room and opened a cupboard on the wall. Taking out a box and a bottle, the Librarian returned to the doorway.
“May I come out and administer to her?” Gray eyes questioned as she stood with the medicine in her hands.
Kayne hesitated. Ailidh liked the Librarian, but he still didn’t trust her. After all, she was one of the Others. He turned his head and saw his mate trying to stifle the large tears meandering down her cheeks by swiping at them with the back of her hand.
“Yes. Please. She’s in such pain.”
Linda was surprised. Very few of the wee folk had become comfortable with her presence, Ailidh was the exception, so getting their permission to move about her own home was necessary if she was to keep them coming into her library.
“Lead the way, Kayne.” She wasn’t above playing to his male vanity.
As they got closer to the tiny faerie, Ailidh straightened in her chair and sipped from her coffee drink. She was a bit startled to see the Librarian out in the building. She didn’t come out in the daytime for fear of scaring away the wee folk that gathered. Something must really be wrong for her to take such measures.
“Librarian.” The sweet sound of Ailidh’s voice carried to the odd pair approaching her.
“Ailidh. How are you today?”
“I’m well, thank you. What brings you out of your room?”
“Kayne asked me to see to your feet. He mentioned you were suffering and asked if I could help.”
Ailidh shot Kayne a glare. “My toes are swollen and hurt a bit but they will heal without help, thank you.”
Linda could sense a fight brewing and opted to take the diplomatic way out.
“Well, let me give you some of my healing helpers. Use them if you like and if not, hang on to them. At some point in the future, they might come in handy. These little orange pills here relieve pain from the inside out, small dose aspirin. I believe you have this remedy in a leaf you brew; this is just easier to take and not quite so bitter. Just swallow them, don’t chew, and in about 20 minutes you should feel some relief from the aching.”
Linda gently shook the box of Epsom salts.
“These salts work if you place them in hot water and soak your feet. They’re called Epsom salts and can be quite handy for those days when you’ve trekked too far. I’d be more than happy to get a tub so you could start the healing now.”
Ailidh looked at Kayne’s worried face and the concern on the Librarian’s face. She pushed out a sigh.
“All right. If it will make both of you happy...” She watched relief flood the faces of the two people she cared about the most. If this would stop her feet from throbbing… she’d try anything.
“I’ll get Chrissy to give you a hand.” Linda took a step and hesitated. Turning, she asked, “Is that all right with you?”
Ailidh nodded.
Linda trod lightly on the old oaken floor. As she came close to the kitchen, she stopped, waiting until all her clothing had stopped rustling. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. She’d made an agreement with the small ones to ask permission before peering directly at them—it was considered polite in their realm.
“Chrissy?” Linda whispered.
“Yes, Librarian?”
“May I speak with you?”
“Of, course, Librarian. Let me dry my hands and I’ll join you.”
Linda sighed quietly. These wee ones had taught her to slow her world down. It was a lesson she greatly valued.
The whirl of wings wisped past her face and she scrunched her eyes tight.
“Please, Librarian. I thought we had agreed we would not stand on the formalities. Open your eyes. I wish to see your storm-cloud colored eyes.”
Chrissy maneuvered herself to sit on the hand railing that separated the kitchen from the main floor.
Linda relaxed her features and allowed her eyes to open; before her sat the tiny nymph. She had clad herself in a fifties-style, carhop uniform, ingeniously made from the petals of daisies and roses.
Linda allowed a smile to touch her lips. “You’re looking very… official today. Any particular reason?”
Chrissy shifted her position. “Yes, I was reading on the Internet that servers used to get something called tips. Every server I saw had a uniform so I decided I like this style best and put it together. Maybe I’ll get some tips.”
Linda was finding it very hard not to laugh aloud. “Well, Chrissy, I don’t really think you have a need for tips.”
Chrissy pushed her lower lip out and furrowed her brow into a thunderous frown. “Why?”
Linda caught herself before a grin covered her face. “Because tips are paper money customers leave if they think the server has done a good job. Since you live here in the forest and most of your housing, food, and needs are met without having to buy anything, paper money doesn’t really have any value, does it?”
Chrissy’s lip pulled in and she smoothed her brow. Her face took on a quizzical look and she tilted her head. “I think you’re right. Well, this uniform would be wilted by the end of the day, anyway. I’ll just wear my regular clothes tomorrow. Was there something you needed, Librarian?”
Linda allowed herself a small chuckle. “Yes. Ailidh has injured her feet, and I wish to get a pan large enough for her to fit in both her feet. I’ll need to have water warm enough to melt these salt crystals and then a towel available for her to dry her feet.”
The little nymph narrowed her eyes and puzzled the situation. “I know there are some large pans in the very back of the cupboard. Will you come in and pull them out?”
Linda hid her surprise. She never entered the kitchen when Chrissy was working. Her size terrified the little nymph and it was, again, one of the agreements they had made. Moving very slowly, Linda entered the tiny room. She crouched on her knees and opened a very tiny door. In the back was a small, quart size, sauté pan which she was sure was the pot the little nymph meant. Using two fingers to slide out the pan, she pulled it from cupboard and placed it on the top.
“Is this the one you meant?”
Chrissy buzzed into the room and looked at the pan. “Yes. I’ll warm some water in it in the microwave…”
“Uh, don’t do that. The one thing that won’t work in the microwave is metal. If you’ll allow me, I’ll find something plastic…”
Chrissy smacked her forehead. “Librarian, don’t worry. I’ll just have to use my magic. How silly of me to forget heating water is one of the first things we’re taught. So, if you’ll leave?”
Linda rose slowly from the floor and feeling somewhat like a pretzel, backed out of the small space. She rolled up to her full 4 ft. 8 in. height. It felt good to stretch her cramped muscles.
“I’ll leave this to you, Chrissy.”
Turning she noted Ailidh and Kayne deep in conversation. Something about the body language of the two wee ones was very wrong. It made Linda think. These two were not the only faeries to come into the library and whisper in frightened, muted tones. Linda was determined to find out what was causing such consternation among the Fae community. From the trembling of their wings, she needed to move fast or her tiny folk would be gone, and Linda would be alone with her library full of books.
About the Author
Genene Valleau, writing as Genie Gabriel
Genene Valleau, writing as Genie Gabriel
For years Genene has been fascinated by the puzzle of why some people collapse under life's traumas and others emerge triumphantly stronger. In a job surrounded by social workers and in her personal life, she saw the effects of child abuse, incest, and violence. Yet amid the stark realities of addictions, anger, abandonment, denial and betrayal shone the bright light of strength, hope and forgiveness. These triumphs of the human spirit over the ugliest of adversities became the basis for her stories. Her passion for writing romance stories became an outlet for the powerful messages that people can overcome great difficulties, and that true love can turn life’s heartaches into happily ever after. She loves writing dramatic stories. However, there's another side to her writing: humor. Her dramatic stories have always contained touches of humor. In one of the darkest times of her life, she got tired of wallowing and drafted a romantic comedy story that became a novella. It was fun--and great therapy! So plan to see more romantic comedy novellas from her along with dramatic stories.
From the Valentines Day Anthology
Excerpt
Hovering at the far end of the bar, Rissa rubbed her arm where That Man's fingers had rested. Dressing as a waitress had seemed like the perfect solution to keep an eye on her brother. Put on a wig and some selected endowments, then circulate through the bar and smile. Unfortunately, because she looked like a waitress, she was expected to act like one also. Except that she didn't know a Black Russian from a Bloody Mary, and her feet hurt. She supposed that her backside would have been black and blue from pinches too if it hadn't been artificially padded.
However, Rissa quickly figured out a simple system. Wine in the tall glasses; hard liquor in the short, squatty ones. Match the color of the umbrellas or what was left of the drink. If she mixed up the orders, she just smiled and apologized profusely. Her system had worked fine.
Until That Man touched her arm.
Rissa couldn't even look into his mesmerizing green eyes without growing dizzy. A dimple appeared briefly in his left cheek as he flashed a smile.
Lowering her gaze was another mistake. His worn-soft bomber jacket and faded-on jeans conveyed a dangerously intimate message. A message her body picked up loud and clear.
Ceiling fans moved languidly, shifting the air but not cooling her heated flesh. Perspiration dampened her palms, her upper lip, the valley between her glued-on, enhanced breasts.
For the first time in her life, Rissa was confronted with the raw sexual power between a man and a woman. It startled and intrigued her; made her want to draw back even as it pulled her under its spell.
The physical impact of someone stumbling against her brought Rissa back to reality--and a commotion by the bar. Rex Foxworth stood alone beside a three-foot-tall cake, his face covered with a stunned expression and clumps of pink frosting.
Where's Ryan? Rissa thought. What happened?
She took a step and her padded breasts slid downward. "Oh, bother and damnation."
The glue must have been loosened by the perspiration generated from close proximity to the tempting stranger. Rissa placed a hand under her sagging bosom and nudged it upward.
The emerald-eyed stranger reappeared, regarding her curiously.
"Are you feeling alright?" the man asked.
Rissa nodded vigorously, which started her bosom sliding once more. She crossed her arms and hugged her waist.
"Are you sure you're not in pain?"
"No!" she whispered as her phony breasts continued their downward slide. If I can just get out of here without the entire bar noticing my escaping body parts.
Rissa edged along the bar. The door seemed miles away, but she could make it. She knew she could.
"Wait!" That Man touched her arm again.
The contact caught Rissa by surprise. As she spun around to face the stranger, her arms dropped their frantic hold across her midsection. She felt a shifting and realized her borrowed bosoms were now at her waist. Horrified, she watched the slow motion descent of her faux breasts as they fell at the stranger's feet.
"I'm sorry," Rissa whispered. She snatched the padding from atop the man's spit-shined shoes and double-timed it out of the Pink Flamingo.
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