Thanksgiving

     My favorite time of the day is early morning. When I’m the first one up and the house is quiet. The stillness is peaceful and renewing. This morning I enjoyed the Oregon rain tapping on the roof. I couldn’t ask for a better start to my day. You probally have to be a native Oregonian to understand this one.

     Next Thursday is Thanksgiving Day, a time for family and eating rich food. A day to remember all the things we’re thankful for besides the food. Good health and family are always the first things which come to mind. However, there are days with too much stress or too many bills in the mail it's hard to give thanks. So I think of three things I’m thankful for. No, family and good health don’t count.

     Our days are full of small moments which make up the sum of the whole so I think of small or trivial things. Lip balm, the smile from a complete stranger or the conversation between a father and his young daugther.

     Lip balm doesn't need a lot of explaining. It's one of those cosmetic items I'm addicted to.

     My day job is a magazine merchandiser so I spend a lot of time in grocery stores. Customers are not always the happiest of people especially this time of year. I've worked at one store for some time now when I realized every Monday an older man came through my department and said 'hi'. One day he said the highlight of his day was seeing me. And I realize he too is the bright spot of my Monday's. We don't know each other but our short conversations and his smile makes my day happier.

     One day I over-heared a comical conversation between a father and his young daughter. Working in retail I hear a lot of conversations, many I wish I hadn't heard. The father and daughter's comical exchange makes me smile everytime I think of them. Their conversation will be in my May Day '13 novella.

     This Thanksgiving remember the small things as well as the obvious. Happy Thanksgiving.

Saturday Cliffhanger

 

Saturday Cliffhanger from The Look of Love by Rosemary Indra

      She finished her preparations then handed him a ceramic mug. He hadn't paid attention to what she'd been fixing. Now he looked down at the ceramic mug of hot chocolate. This wasn't what he had in mind when she said she'd get him a drink. He wanted something strong enough to burn going down and dull his senses, not warm milk. Hot chocolate was for little children. The mug warmed his hand and he felt oddly comforted by the feeling.
      She motioned for him to go into the living room and he followed her suggestion without question. "Drink up," Penny instructed after they sat down on the couch.
      Silence fell between them. She seemed to know what he needed more than he did. Quietly she reached out and held his hand. In the stillness his raw and tangled nerves gradually relaxed.
      Dubiously, he drank some of the warm flavored milk. He couldn't remember the last time he had hot chocolate. Campouts, cold winter nights and childhood came to mind. Without a word, he finished the drink.
      Penny persuaded him to lie down and put his head on her lap. Her slender fingers stoked his neck and shoulders. "Was there a chaplain on the scene?"
      "Yes. Rod Thompson." He moaned softly when her fingers combed through his hair. "And he was at the station after we cleaned up."
      "Did you talk to him?" her voice was as soft as a caress.
      "Briefly."
      Most fire departments had a chaplain to counsel family and firefighters after a severe accident or death. Only tonight the chaplain didn't give the reassurance Scott needed.
      Penny's fingers combed his hair and for the first time that evening he could feel the tension in his shoulders relax. "Do you want to talk about it?"
      For the second time in an hour he felt tears threaten, a single tear rolled down his cheek. He felt vulnerable.
      "A young woman crossed the center line while she was on the phone. Head on. She was..." Tears tightened his throat. He took a jarring breath then continued, "...killed out right."
      He knew he wasn't supposed to discuss the accident but he needed to release some of the burden; some of the horror, which he'd witnesses earlier.
      "The woman looked a lot like you. I needed to see you. Your are the only one who could comfort me." The tension started to release and tears formed in his eyes then streaked down his face. He left the moisture unchecked on his face again.
      Her hands caressed his neck and shoulders and his eyelides became heavy. Scott closed his eyes again and this time the images weren't as vivid as before. The comforting darkness of sleep overtook him.
      "I love you." Penny's tender works were the last thing he heard.

The Look of Love

Excerpt from The Look of Love

         Scott walked into the bathroom to fill a warm bath for Penny. The tiny room smelled of her floral perfume. He felt as if she’d wrapped her arms around him welcoming him home.

         The first thing he noticed when he entered the room was her panties. Satin undies lay across every towel bar in the room. Colorful. Shiny. And sexy as hell. He could feel the hot flush in his jeans.

        He opened the shower curtain to discover a clothesline strung the length of the tub, also full of unmentionables. The fabric felt smooth in his hand and he started to wonder how the satin would feel against her soft skin.

       Her panties felt soft and sensual when he removed them from the line. Scott had never thought of Penny’s underwear before but now he’d glimpsed the simmering colors, he’d never be able to look her in the eye without thinking of her sexy panties and wonder what color she wore under her clothes.

            He ignored the soft fabric and concentrated on filling the tub for her with warm water. He added some bath salt from a bottle on the tubs edge.

            “You know I can fix my own bath,” she said at the doorway.

            He jumped at the sound of her gentle voice.

            “I’m sorry. I forgot they were in here.” With the crutches under her arms, she reached out for her underwear.

            “How are you going to carry them with your crutches? Where would you like them?” He kept his gaze locked with hers hoping to hide the effect her personal apparel had on him.

            “Just toss them on my bed.”

            He stifled a groan at the thought of Penny’s lingerie on her bed.

            “Scott.” At the sound of her voice he quickly grabbed the last pair of panties and stuffed them under his arm. With the quick movement, colorful wisps of satin fluttered to the floor. He bent over and picked up her garments, trying to look nonchalant but he could feel his face warm with discomfort.

            “You really need another bathroom. Then your personal items aren’t out in public where anyone could see them,” his voice was husky with frustration.

            “Scott, I live alone,” she stated shortly. “Very few people see my house let alone my bathroom. So I wouldn’t call this out in public.” She gestured the scope of the room with her hands.

Fess Up Muse: What Were You Doing Last Week?

It's A Small World:

All Lit Up For Christmas.

It's check in day at the Rogues Angels blog. 

Time to pay the piper! How did you do?

This is the Rogue's Angels weekly check-in. Every Thursday we encourage the Angels and visitors to let us know how their writing is going.

How well are you doing?

Had problems this week? That's ok. Just sit down this coming week and write. Whatever you do, don't let difficulties from the week before get in your way this week.

Every word is one word closer to the finished product.

I didn't write anything last week but I shot well over 500 pictures. I spent 8 days in Anaheim, 6 of them in the Disney Land and California Adventures Park. Now it's back to work and finishing Highland Miracles.

Had a great week? Keep it up, the momentum is on your side.

We vampires do not make easy prey.

Please welcome Matthew D. Ryan author of Drasmyr.



Matthew will be awarding a set of metal miniatures: 3 Nosferatu Vampires (US only) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Please leave a comment for the author.

Drasmyr

by Matthew D. Ryan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

We vampires do not make easy prey. Our weaknesses are few, our strengths many. Fear is something we do not know, and death but a distant memory. So tread softly, pray to your god, and gird yourself with silver when the moons arise and night’s dark prince awakens. We fear not the wizard, nor the warrior, neither rogue, nor priest; our strength is timeless, drawn from darkness and we know no master save the hot lust of our unending hunger. We long for blood, your blood and no blade, nor spell, nor clever artifice, can keep us long from our prize. Feel our teeth at your throat, your life ebb from you, and know as darkness comes to claim you that the price of your folly is your everlasting soul.

***

In Drisdak, the city on the Sea of Sorrows, the citizens have much to dread. Unease and foreboding has always been associated with the local wizards guild; peasants have an innate distrust of magic and those who use it. But now, something else is on the rise. A mysterious fire at the guild has left two men dead and a third missing. A small matter, you say? Well, one of those men was the guild master, and his successor wants to know what happened to him. Enter Coragan of Esperia, the renowned bounty hunter. If anyone can unravel this mess he can. But is even he prepared to challenge the horrible evil that lurks at the heart of the mystery? An ancient vampire by the name of Lucian val Drasmyr.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EXCERPT:

There’s a woman in chain mail standing across the room from me; her sword is leveled at my chest. I can smell the enchantment on the blade, it’s a strong one; maybe even strong enough to cause me harm. Still, I’m not too concerned; it’s at least a ten foot lunge and I know I move faster than she does. Indeed, she’s the one who is looking worried. My display of strength and the death of her comrade have shaken her resolve.

           

She’s got a pretty face, flushed with excitement but strong and in control. It is her neck that really draws me, though, so soft and inviting, filled with the warm blood I desire. The curve of her flesh glistens, waiting for a well-placed gentle kiss.

She’s breathing rapidly now, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her trek up through the castle has sapped much of her strength. And the fear she feels is naked in her eyes. Now, she’s getting ready to pounce, just a little too much tension in her stance, her eyes just a little too focused. She couldn’t give me more warning if she were to ask my permission first.

           

She moves in with remarkable speed, her blade striking out like a serpent’s tongue. Even winded, she still manages to cut my cape, then prances away with her back toward the wall, ready for anything. Anything, except me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Matthew D. Ryan is a published author living in upstate New York on the shores of Lake Champlain. He has a background in philosophy, mathematics, and computer science. He also has a black belt in the martial arts and studies yoga. He has been deeply involved in the fantasy genre for most of his life as a reader, writer, and game designer. He believes he saw the legendary Lake Champlain Monster (a.k.a Champy) once and he has a cat named Confucius.

Author’s Smashwords Page: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/matthewdryan

Author’s Book Page: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/131156

Author’s Blog: http://www.atoasttodragons.com

Author’s Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000038781652

Author’s Twitter Handle: @MatthewDRyan1

Author’s Goodreads Page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/579148.Matthew_D_Ryan

Author’s Shelfari Page: http://www.shelfari.com/matthewdryan/shelf

The book is available on Smashwords, Amazon, BN and elsewhere for free.

Don't forget to leave a comment.

           

Joker's Wild - Part 2

Joker's Wild

by

C. L. Kraemer

This biker is father to four and grandfather to eight. He's a brother, son, husband and gentle heart. Proves the saying: Don't judge a book by the cover. 

About the book: How can the justice system go so horribly wrong in passing judgment on a convicted drunk driver who killed an innocent man? Joey Palmer asks himself the same question and can't find the answer -- yet.

________________________________________________________________

Excerpt from Joker's Wild by C. L. Kraemer

Brown sticky air weighed heavily on the riding pair. As quickly as he could, Joey maneuvered the motorcycle to I-5 North heading out of the congestion of downtown Los Angeles. Using the California law of splitting lanes, he bypassed the traffic sitting still and quickly exited to Hwy 14 heading north to Palmdale/Lancaster. He drove wildly not slowing his pace until after he passed the Acton exits. Only then did he roll back on the throttle.

The sooner I’m out of LA the better.

His shoulders relaxed and he leaned into Kandi. She slid her hands around his waist and squeezed. The hot wind blew into his face but the feeling of freedom overrode any discomfort. Driving a familiar path, he left the freeway on the second Palmdale exit and headed north. The dry dusty landscape soon gave way to rolling hills bearing a bit of green from the spring rains. The two-lane road undulated around the edge of the lake. Sitting on the San Andreas Fault, it was one of a series of sag ponds created by the teutonic plates. Cool air from the water drifted to the edges of the road caressing the hot, dusty riders.

Soon the hillsides were dotted with homes and the signs of civilization became evident. Joey slowed to the posted speed limit.

Kandi felt the muscles in his body loosen up. This ride and Dottie’s Hideaway always refreshed them. Today was going to be no exception. She figured talking him into staying at least one night wouldn’t be a problem.

Outside the rocky front of Dottie’s, lining the length of the building was every conceivable combination of motorcycle. There were hardcore Harleys of all descriptions to Japanese speed bikes. This was a destination for many riders, Joey and Kandi included.

Joey waited for a spot near the door, sliding his bike into the opening. Kandi opted to dismount before he backed the bike in; removing her helmet once she was on solid ground. She watched him leg out the kickstand and dismount before she attempted to settle her helmet on the sissy bar.

The Hideaway was bustling with activity.

“Damn lot of people here today,” Joey grumbled.

Kandi ran her finger through her hair trying her best to eliminate as much ‘helmet hair’ look as she could.

“Could be because it’s spring vacation. Not everybody works seven days a week, Joey.”

“Might help the economy if they did.” He turned to her and lowered his voice. “Most of these so-called bikers are RUBs, anyway.”

She tossed a scowl his direction he ignored. “There’s nothing wrong with Rich Urban Bikers. Their money is just as green.”

He humphed.

Kandi pulled in and slowly released a deep breath. She knew the signs—Joey was determined to be miserable. Nothing she could try would jar him from his mood. Today’s final hearing about his brother’s death had been difficult to sit through. Everything Joey was today he owed to his brother Alex.

When Alex had followed his dream of becoming a stunt man to Hollywood, Joey had been his biggest proponent. After becoming Corey Rigby’s stunt double, Alex’s career had soared. He’d contacted Joey to move to California with him. Floating a bit aimlessly in the Northwest, Joey jumped at the chance. He brought his sheet metal and tube bending skills with him and soon was working in the aerospace industry in the Antelope Valley. On the side, he helped Alex create safety aids for his stunts in the movies. The partnership had saved Alex’s life on more than one occasion.

When the Highway Patrol officer showed up at Joey’s work that fateful day eighteen months ago, he suspected Alex was hurt. The officer told Joey the worst news possible; Alex was dead. Not in a movie stunt but from an apparent auto accident after a day’s shoot. At first, the accident was written off as just that—an accident, but Joey was livid at the slap on the wrist the authorities gave Corey. Having his brother so close to the movie star, he knew the man had a bad drinking problem and had escaped justice several times. He decided to sue for wrongful death.

The trial today was the final phase of a year’s long attempt to get justice for his brother, and Joey wasn’t pleased with the results.

Kandi knew in the bottom of her heart she needed to help Joey find a solution. She trailed behind him as he meandered into the restaurant and lounge. The cacophony of voices set the nerves on her skin to tingling. She turned around to speak to him and stared into space. He’d disappeared in the breadth of a second.

“Kandi!”

She jerked her head in the direction of his voice. He’d secured two seats by the window. She wound her way through the tables and sat in the chair. The interior was deceptive. Large windows allowed the bright day to light the room but drew in warmth. High overhead fans were twirling rapidly but barely moving the body heat put out by the filled tables of customers.

“I ordered a gin tonic and sweet tea for you. Hope that’s okay.”

She graced him with a smile.

“Of course. I’m going to visit the facilities. I’ll be back.”

He nodded absently and resumed watching the street traffic.

Kandi navigated the tight tables and rushing waitresses to visit the women’s restroom located outside in a separate building. As she stood waiting for one of the stalls to empty, her eyes were caught by a colorful flyer on the bathroom door.

Presented by Wyvern Riders MC

Brother Can you Spare a Ride?

From Mojave to Lake Hughes

To East Lancaster and back

Ride to stop hunger in the AV

Kandi glanced around and quietly took the poster down. She examined the paper and realized the nagging at the back of her head was because the picture of the dragon in flight was identical to a couple pins she’d seen earlier today. The lawyer and judge wore silver tie tacks that resembled the dragon at the top of the flyer. Stuffing the announcement in her purse she realized this could be the key for revenge Joey needed. Already her mind was racing and a plan was forming. She’d talk him into staying the night, as planned, and present her thoughts to him after a night of drinking and frolicking.

She exited the stall and nodded at the next person waiting in line.

Alex’s death would be avenged—with flair.

 

Joker's Wild

Joker's Wild

by 

C.L. Kraemer

Motorcycles--you either love 'em or you hate 'em. Doesn't seem to be an in between for most people. Me? I love them. Especially the above pictured, leather clad gent with the big red Harley. It's because of our association with so many riders, I got the idea for the book, Joker's Wild. Most of the 'bikers' I know personally are hard-working family people who happen to love riding a motorcycle. 

Excerpt:

2004

The squeak of his teeth against each other reverberated in Joey’s ears.

“Joey? Joey!”

The plaintive cry brought his attention back to the moment. Kandace, Kandi, O’Connell ripped her hand from his, rubbing the appendage and pushing her bottom lip into a formidable pout.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You nearly crushed my fingers!”

He resumed glaring across the courtroom at the dapper figure vigorously shaking the lawyer’s hand.

“Joey! What is your problem?” Kandi sidled up to the man, running her hand along his muscled arm.

He slowly pivoted her direction staring in disbelief.

“Do you think he got what he deserved?”

The couple glanced at the defense table. Corey “Slide” Rigby grinned at the mob of young females clustered near the waist high, wooden retainer separating the spectator section from the main body of the courtroom. Bentley Wellington IV snapped his briefcase closed and looked up at the Hon. Scott Fournier, currently vacating the bench; few noticed the slight nod passing between the two.

Joey surveyed the growing mayhem in the courtroom.

“I need to get some fresh air.” He powered through the writhing mass of humanity trying to grab the attention of the action adventure star and marched to the peristyle.

Kandi scrambled to keep up with his strides, dodging the gauntlet of pushing cameramen and reporters shoving microphones in her face and shouting questions at her.

Joey steered them to the side of the building away from the media circus.

“Damned vultures.” He reached around to his hip pocket and withdrew the round tin whose impression was permanently stamped on all the back pockets of his jeans. Twisting the lid, he snagged a pinch of brown flakes between his thumb and forefinger. Using his middle finger, he tucked the flakes inside his bottom lip.

“I really wish you’d give that up. It’s disgusting.” Kandi wrinkled her nose.

“I suppose your herb habit is any better?”

 Kandi sniffed. “It’s medicinal.”

“Right, and I’m a virginal school girl.”

The crowd in front of the building began buzzing until the sound engulfed the immediate area. Cameramen and reporters started spreading across the lawn and down the side corridors of the building edging toward the couple.

“Must be the star making his appearance,” Joey stepped off the concrete walkway onto the manicured lawn and peered at the building’s facade. The wide sidewalk in front of the judicial edifice was a sea of reporters clutching microphones aimed in the direction of a podium.

When the action hero stepped up to the provided mike, multiple voices vied for the attention of the man.

The actor flashed his best on-screen smile to the mob and raised a hand.

“I’ll get to all your questions—later. Right now I need to give credit where credit is due…”

Joey curled up one corner of his mouth and turned from the scene. A familiar form caught his attention and he slowed his gait as he watched Bentley Wellington IV casually slip from the gathered insanity.

Odd. I’ve never seen him relinquish the limelight. He shadowed the lawyer, ducking behind the columns when the man glanced over his shoulder. As Bentley neared the main building, a side door swung open and Judge Fournier stepped into the breezeway. Joey darted to a pillar near the pair. He watched as the lawyer reached into an inner pocket of his suit coat and retrieved a bulging sealed envelope. He started to hand the packet to the judge, glancing Joey’s direction.

Joey slipped behind the post, holding back a well chosen swear word.

“I believe this is yours. I found it in my briefcase this morning.”

The crinkle of paper tickled Joey’s ears. Another familiar sound reached him.

“Uh, oh, oh my. I’m so sorry.”

Kandi. He couldn’t help himself; he peeked around the support. She was rising slowly and handing the envelope to the Judge with one hand, her opened cell phone in the other.

“No problem, miss. What are you doing here?” The tone of the question was tinged with suspicion.

“Isn’t this the door to the ladies’ room?”

Joey stuck his crooked forefinger between his front teeth and resumed his hiding spot. He could imagine her big green eyes, luminescent in the refracted light of the windows as she ran her pink tongue over her plump melon tinged lips.

Silence permeated the moment.

One of the men cleared his throat.

“No, ma’am. The public entrance is back down the breezeway and to the right. I’m sure one of the reporters will be glad to direct you from there.”

He could hear Kandi giggle. “I’m so directionally challenged. Thank you.”

The click of her heels on the concrete echoed against the building. Joey held his position.

“Do you think she knows?” The voice sounded like the lawyer’s.

“No. She’s too dumb. Did you see her… assets?”

Joey ground his right fist into his left palm.

“Yeah. That’d sure look good on the back of my Fatboy.”

Both men laughed and the tension filling the air dissipated.

“You doing the Jay Leno ride?”

“Naw. The inlaws are in town and I’m going to have to pretend to be a good husband.”

“Better you than me. Maybe we can sneak in a quick ride to Donna’s Hideaway on Sunday.”

“I might be able to finagle my way free for the afternoon. I’ll get hold of you by Sunday morning.”

“Not too early. Unlike you, I have no wife…”

“Currently.”

“…yeah, whatever. So I plan on hitting the clubs on Saturday night. Don’t call before ten.”

“It’s going to take us a couple hours just to get there.”

“Yep. That’s why it’s called a road trip.”

The sound of footsteps ricocheted back to Joey and he ventured to peek from behind his column.

 He was about to walk toward the front of the building and locate Kandi when a pair of hands grabbed his side.

“Boo!”

He snapped around arm cocked, hand fisted.

Her eyes were wide and rounded, her face devoid of all color.

“Christ, Kandi. I nearly hit you!”

“S-s-sorry.”

She wiggled her cell phone back and forth in front of him.

“I got pictures of the envelope,” her sing-song announcement reminded Joey of his six year old nephew.

“Terrific. You have pictures of a white envelope stuffed with…”

“Money.” Kandi closed her eyes. “My favorite.”

“… strips of paper cut in the shape of dollar bills.”

“WHAT?!” Kandi’s eyes popped open.

Joey put his hand over her mouth and snugged her to him. “Shhh.”

The two legal figures standing near the undulating crowd of reporters soon disappeared into the mass.

Joey peeked from behind his stanchion and swore under his breath. His gaze fell to the furious green eyes trying to burn a hole through his head.

“That’s the story they would tell anyone who asked. You don’t think they’ll admit to an exchange of money? And face it, sweetheart, you’re not a very reliable witness.”

“OUCH!” He whipped his hand from her mouth. “That hurt!”

Kandi stepped away from him. “Then don’t put it where it doesn’t belong.” She stomped toward the parking lot.

Joey caught up with her and slipped his hand through her arm turning her to face him. He pulled her wiggling body to him and caught her lips beneath his own. The maneuver worked. He felt her relax.

Breaking off the kiss he put his lips next to her ear. The floral smell of her shampoo tickled his nose and he pulled in the fragrance.

“Sorry, Babe. We just need to be smarter than they are.”

She looked up into eyes brimming with pain and gently kissed his chin. “I know. We’ll think of something.”

“Right now, I’m in the mood for a road trip. Feel like going to Donna’s?”

“I was hoping you’d want to ride. I traded shifts with Ally so I don’t have to be back to work for two glorious days.”

The pair headed to the parking lot avoiding the gaggle of television crews intent on getting the first scoop in the Alex Palmer vs Corey Rigby wrongful death suit.

Joey swung his leg over the bike and backed it out into the street. Kandi stepped on the peg and flipped her leg over the backrest. Pushing the button to start the bike, Joey gave the throttle a full twist. The engine roared to life echoing off the surrounding towering high-rises as the back tire spun in place filling the parking lot with billowing, acrid white smoke.

Recognizing the maneuver, Kandi wrapped her arms around Joey’s waist and clinched shut her eyes.

The motorcycle screeched out of the lot leaving a black rubber streak on the pavement. When the smoke cleared, the bike and its occupants were nowhere to be seen.

Corey Rigby stepped back from the microphone and searched the crowd for his lawyer. He stood at the podium alone. Cameras zoomed in to feature his pale, sweating face. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the courthouse.

The gauntlet had been slammed down with smoking force. 

Joker's Wild is scheduled to be released in March 2013 by RoguePhoenixPress.