Showing posts with label ebooks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ebooks. Show all posts

Friday, June 23, 2017

The Beginning of the End is Shuttered Vision

Its time, Clair thought to herself as she set up the ingredients for the spell she was about to cast.  She was stronger now.  She didn't need the herbs and symbols but her mother had taught her respect for the old ways.  She loved them and they kept her just enough human these days.  Just enough to remember the people she was looking for were flawed.  Her husband Sergei did the rest when it came to insuring her empathetic bond to humanity.  She smiled over to him softly as she added the rosemary to the shell with the white sage, rose petals and lavender.  It would keep those she bound safe until it was time for them to do what they needed to do.

Sergei lit the white candles around the shell and sat on the opposite side of Clair. The table between them was a wooden pub table.  Their seats pub stools. He had built his Clair a witch's den as soon as they found a forever home in Taos. The shed sat on consecrated ground blessed by her ancestors and his. The walls were built from a blessed oak tree and the adobe that packed those walls from deep in the heart of what was once Apache lands. They had blessed and warded the space themselves with only a little help from Clair's mother Janeene.

Building places like this required a lot of heart and care. The furniture was either stone or wood. The walls were bare but the large wooden chest in the corner held all Clair needed. Candles, herbs, ingredients and totems. Each piece was selected with the utmost care and attention to detail.  Clair had insisted.  He had done as she needed. That was the only way one should deal with a witch powerful enough to drop a city block with a thought. It helped that he was in fact hopelessly in love with her and she him.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them.  Their vision was shared and she could see as he did. They scanned the world then. Clair gasped and Sergei stopped. They jolted out of the vision.

"That was fast." Sergei said briskly.

Clair looked a little stunned as she stared down at the contents of the abalone shell between them. The shell was the size of a fist and fit easily into Clair's palm. It looked as if it hung in mid air on its wooden tripod stand. When she used it she stared at the flames when she burned her herbs to see what she needed to.

"Not a mistake." She whispered as she used a candle to set fire to the contents of the bowl. She let her aura pulse.  She felt the power that laid in her soul push the boundaries.  The words came to her spontaneously. "For nothing can be seen, made or foretold without art. The artists must be acute of vision, consorts of sound, and scribes of renown.  I call on 3 sets of creators with a view unconventional and will unbendable.

One of handled art with brush to canvas and visions of failed passions. One of traveled time in scenes, lulls, set and dark flashes. Those of sight with vision unbound to see the world that is now found."

Find Clair and Sergei's story in So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar.


Then continue the tale with Fiona and Colan in Shuttered Vision coming June 30th 2017.


Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Shuttered Vision Coming June 30th 2017

“What are you talking about?” Fiona cut back.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Cody pinned her with his response.

Fiona shut down and said flatly, “He’s rich, he’s famous, and he’s white.”

Cody was getting angry. “And what does that mean?”

“It means he has no interest in someone like me. By his standards; I’m fat, stupid, and the most unforgivable sin, not white,” Fiona stated matter-of-factly.

Cody was trying to control his temper, but when she started talking like this. “Face, not everyone is as small minded as the idiots you grew up with. There are actually progressive states in the union you know.”

Fiona hissed, “Where? Name one where people aren’t being shat on for having the audacity to date outside of their race? When was the last time you saw a happy interracial couple?” she charged.

“So, you’re telling me that even if he was perfect for you in every way, you wouldn’t date him because he’s white?” Cody accused.

Not really, Fiona thought to herself but she was pissed off enough at Cody to be a jackass. “That’s right.”

“You are a racist,” he said confidently.

“Damn straight, and I got there honest.” She sighed letting her anger drain away at the sound of her own ignorance. “Look, I know it’s wrong, believe me I do, but every single man that has hurt me in the past has had one thing in common. They weren’t able to get past this-” she rubbed her skin. “It doesn’t come off, and people in this country are too ignorant to see past it. All I would do is condemn another person to having the horrible realization of how completely racist and sexist their entire upbringing has been. It’s exhausting work CJ, and I’d rather sit it out.”

Cody was about to yell at her some more. He saw the tears glistening in her eyes and knew that it hurt her so much more than she liked to admit. Instead he just pulled her close.

“I love you, Face,” he said plainly.

He heard her long sigh. “And I love you. But you know what I’m saying. You said as much about Frederick.”

Cody grimaced. “Yes, I did, not that Frederick ever stood a chance, but if he did, he’s so in the closest that going down on him would taste like mothballs. I’m much too old to be a legend maker.”

She looked up at him. “So am I. I did that when I was younger,” she imparted.

He smiled. “We both did. Well in that case you won’t mind the deal I made Abrams,” Cody confided.


Fiona pulled away from him looking up in an accusatory fashion. “What deal?”


Sunday, May 7, 2017

Girl Talk from SPRSWB

Dorrie held up the dress.  “Sergei will be here soon.”

Clair reached for the dress.

Dorrie held it back.  “Promise me you’ll give this man a fair shake.”

Clair frowned at Dorrie and pursed her lips reaching for the dress again.

Dorrie backed away from her.  “Promise Clair.”

Clair bit her lip almost hard enough to break the skin. She huffed and finally said, “I promise, fair shake.”

Dorrie held the dress out to her.  “Thank you.”

Clair snatched it.  “Why are you on this guy’s team?”

Dorrie looked beside herself.  “Are you joking, you weren’t at the table when he said that a man doesn’t walk out on a woman after they’ve been together for years.  Maybe you didn’t notice that he had only been in your space for a few seconds and knew that you were worth the effort.  Or did you miss his calm acceptance of your episode.”

Clair thought back, that had been odd.  Only Dorrie knew about her voodoo heritage.  Being raised in Africa she was a bit more understanding about that sort of thing than the average American.  During the phone call he hadn’t even brought it up. He had been more concerned with the idea that she had changed her mind about seeing him. Which considering their rocky meeting was fair.

What had been even more odd is that when Clair thought about it everything she did when he was around seemed oddly out of character. She wasn’t the type to get into a man’s face regardless of the circumstances. She really needed to pay attention. Something was not quite right.  Clair realized that Dorrie had called her name twice and startled she looked up.  “Yeah?”

“Where were you?  I swear you need a keeper most of the time.” Doreen said with slight shake of her head.

Clair shrugged and nodded.  “Just thinking.”

Dorrie huffed some herself this time.  “That is something else you need to give up, just feel Clair.  I know you are attracted to this man.  Be attracted to him and stop giving yourself such a hard time about it.  And for God sake try and have some fun.”

Clair smirked at her worrying mother hen of a best friend.  “Done mama Dorrie?”

Dorrie returned her smirk.  “Smart ass, for now, yes.”  She grabbed her purse and started for the door.  “Have fun.”

Clair smiled and said sincerely, “I will do my best.”


“That’s all I ask,” Dorrie yelled back as the door shut on her.



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Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Saturday Night from So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Clair was in her bedroom in front of her full length mirror annoyed with what she had chosen to wear.  It wasn’t a bad outfit it just didn’t look like a date outfit.  Because of her profession, and because of Jonny, besides jeans and t-shirts Clair only had two absolute looks, dress black for her concerts and skank club gear for Jonny’s concerts.  Somehow neither one seemed appropriate. Not that she knew what Sergei would consider appropriate. She couldn’t help but to wonder about him and their meeting.

Sergei hadn’t even blinked oddly when he had calmly asked her what she had seen.  As if he were accustomed to dealing with people with extra sensory perceptive gifts.  Their phone call last night had been brief but not once had he even implied that he thought her repeated fainting spells had been odd.

He had called around 8 last night, very respectful of her time. Clair had been sitting at her piano going through her paces. She had literally been thinking of him and wondering if he would actually call. Part of her hoping he would and part of her hoping he wouldn’t. The contrast made her uncomfortable. She had been lost in thought when the ringing phone made her jump.

“Hello Clair, how are you?” he had casually answered when she had said hello.

“I’m fine.”  She had been at the piano, of course.  For whatever reason, the day after she had met Sergei she had started a new piece.  She was sure it was just coincidence.  She needed to rationalize the things that she felt when she thought about Sergei. Meeting him had been pretty impactful in a way she didn’t want to deal with.  She had slowly fallen for Jonny and previous guys.  A little flirting at a music event, a date or two. Then eventually they got intimate.

This was different.  Sergei spoke to her in ways she didn’t know she had places to speak from. It was maddening she went from anxiousness, to excitement, to blind terror.

“That’s good to hear, we still on for tomorrow night or have you come to your senses and changed your mind?” Sergei said rather cautiously.

Despite herself Clair had chuckled a little under her breath.  “Should I come to my senses and change my mind?”

He had paused for a moment or two as if he were actually thinking about it.  “Well, Clair, I’m not an easy boy to get along with, you got a taste of that a few days ago.  I know that you never actually instigated this so I don’t hold you accountable for going out with me.  I’d like a chance to get to know you and you seem like a person worth knowing Clair.”

“Clairvoyance.” She had said instantly surprising herself because she never asked anyone to call her Clairvoyance.

She heard a low whistle from the other end of the line.  “My Lord, that’s a god-awful first name, no wonder you go by Clair.  Do you really want me to call you that?”

Immediately embarrassed Clair held her warm forehead in her hand.  “No, I guess I wanted to see if you would go running for the hills.”


He chuckled a little this time.  “Honestly Clair, if you turn out to be as much woman as I think you are, it would take wild horses to drag me away.”


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Monday, February 27, 2017

All the Unexplained - SPRSWB

“Not everything of this world can be explained by science or anything else for that matter.”  He pinned her again with his laser blue eyes.  “I don’t discount anything, there is something in you Clair that is beyond the norm and it glows off of you like a beacon, it attracts me.”

Clair knew she was staring at him in the oddest fashion but she couldn’t seem to control the instinct to do so.  All of her life she just knew that talking about the eccentric nature of her family line would be a bad ideal for a first date.  It would be a bad ideal before marriage but she had admitted to herself that she would’ve volunteered the information if Jonny had ever asked her to be his wife.  She had never guessed that the secrets of her lineage permeated off of her and someone open to those ideals would be able to associate and see how she was different from most people.

“To be honest, I have a family history that would imply that extra sensory perception was an ability I should have, but you are the first person I’ve ever had even a blip of activity with.” Clair admitted.

Sergei frowned slightly.  “Really?  I find that very interesting.  Not a single occurrence before?”

Clair shrugged sheepishly, “Not involving anything else besides music.”

Sergei sat silently for a moment the question burning in his form as he softly asked, “How bad was it, Clair?”

Clair was very solemn and couldn’t hide the fear in her voice as she said slowly, “Bad.”

He nodded.  “I thought so, had a gut feeling about it.”

Clair finally asked, “Is there any reason to believe that someone would want to hurt you?”

He nodded quickly.  “Yeah, this project that I’m here for is under much scrutiny and debate.”  He leveled his impressive eyes at her.  “There are people who would rather not see it done.”

“How pertinent are you to its completion?” Clair said in a very direct way.


“There’s the thing Clair, without me, it doesn’t happen.” Sergei laid hard.

“You want to talk about it?” Clair asked earnestly.

He hesitated for only a moment, “Virgin launch.  The ideal has been humming around the aerospace industry since we first got people on the moon.”  His eyes started to glow again as he started talking with his hands.  “What if we could charter people into space, like airline carriers charter people around the world?  It’s a huge undertaking because you would have to be able to eliminate a bulk of the physical limitations to being in space that astronauts train years for.”

“Okay,” Clair inserted following.

“What is the one thing missing from space that makes it so damn difficult for people?” Sergei asked in an ironic way.

Clair thought for a second. “Gravity.”

Sergei smiled at her then.  “I have developed a rather crude and preliminary gravitational system that would not alter regardless of the gravity, or lack thereof, in space. Currently it can be isolated to a single hub.” He shrugged, “So far I’ve only been able to stabilize a hub the size of a Lear jet, but that’s just the beginning.”

Clair felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.  “You’ve found a way to create gravity?” she said in a disbelieving fashion.

Sergei nodded a bit as he responded. “Sort of, I’ve mostly found a way to borrow gravity.  Gravity is one of the big four forces of the Universe, it just exists, the trick is tapping into it.”

“How?” Clair asked honestly intrigued.

He was casual but confident as he continued. “Same way it exists now, orbiting bodies in a circular pattern, centrifugal force meeting rotating atoms.”

Abruptly he grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket.  He drew a crude looking cigar shaped vessel and drew several rings around it.  On each ring he attached various circular objects of varying size, and with arrows he displayed the directions each ring would move and the directions each circular object would rotate in.

He showed her the crude drawing.  “Mankind’s problem is that we always think we need to reinvent the wheel, we don’t need anything new, the solution is in the application.”

Clair’s mind wrapped around it instantly.  “A roving solar system, with the hub as the sun.”

Sergei nodded.  “It would move in space just like our galaxy does, creating its own gravity as it goes.”

Clair shook her head.  “That’s so simple it’s brilliant.”

Sergei nodded.  “I had this thought for quite a while and I often thought that it really couldn’t be this simple so I never brought it up.  But people are chomping at the bit to get into space.”  He paused before finishing. “So I put a little more time and planning into it, mapped out the physics of it all and I was able to generate a gravitational field on a model airplane.”

Clair was holding the napkin, staring at it blankly not really believing how unerringly brilliant this man was.  “Talk about thinking outside of the box.”

“I find the only issues with science are all the rules, we’ve made things too complicated.  None of us can see the forest for the trees.”  He stated like it was obvious “God had it all right in the beginning, why mess with that?”

Her thoughts got captured by his mention of God.  “Don’t tell me you’re a scientist that believes in God.”

He fixed her with a very serious look.  “No true scientist can look at the evidence and not.  It’s too balanced, everything is.  I don’t know if religion has it right but I do know that something holds this all together.  We’ve broken things down to their smallest component and we have no idea why everything doesn’t just fall apart.  That’s either magic or some other divine force.”  He fixed her with a knowing look.  “And I don’t have to tell you about all else in this world that is unexplainable.”


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Friday, November 11, 2016

Familiar With This Sort of Thing - SPRSWB

“I would like to take your hand, but I don’t want you to have another episode,” he admitted candidly.

Which made Clair ask, “You seem familiar with my odd behavior, why is that?”

Sergei smirked at her.  “You don’t know much about gypsies do you?”

“Well I don’t give any credence to most stereotypes, I don’t see fortune-tellers and the like.” Clair affirmed.

Sergei leaned back in his chair.  “As terrible as it is to say, while stereotypes themselves are wrong, some of their assumptions are based in fact.”

“You believe in things beyond the norm,” she stated more than asked.

“Believe them, hell, I’ve seen ‘em,” he imparted. “Not everything of this world can be explained by science or anything else for that matter.”  He pinned her again with his laser blue eyes.  “I don’t discount anything, there is something in you Clair that is beyond the norm and it glows off of you like a beacon, it attracts me.”

Clair knew she was staring at him in the oddest fashion but she couldn’t seem to control the instinct to do so.  All of her life she just knew that talking about the eccentric nature of her family line would be a bad ideal for a first date.  It would be a bad ideal before marriage but she had admitted to herself that she would’ve volunteered the information if Jonny had ever asked her to be his wife.  She had never guessed that the secrets of her lineage permeated off of her and someone open to those ideals would be able to associate and see how she was different from most people.

“To be honest, I have a family history that would imply that extra sensory perception was an ability I should have, but you are the first person I’ve ever had even a blip of activity with.” Clair admitted.

Sergei frowned slightly.  “Really?  I find that very interesting.  Not a single occurrence before?”

Clair shrugged sheepishly, “Not involving anything else besides music.”

Sergei sat silently for a moment the question burning in his form as he softly asked, “How bad was it, Clair?”


Clair was very solemn and couldn’t hide the fear in her voice as she said slowly, “Bad.”


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Wednesday, November 9, 2016

I Choose to Not Let You Die - SPRSWB

With the clarity of daylight, understanding flooded her senses.  “Oh dear God, you knew you were coming to New Mexico to die.”

Sergei didn’t pretend to not.  “I don’t back down Clair, I face things head on.”

Clair was beside herself with rage at the lack of care he showed with his life.  “You are insane,” She uttered carefully. “I’m not the only one who needs a keeper apparently.”  She got up and headed for her kitchen but stopped short and turned around to look at him. She didn’t mean to but ended up yelling the last bit out, “How long have you known?”

He casually shrugged.  “All my life really.”  He stood and tried to touch Clair but she pulled back. He held up his hands.  “You believe in patterns, right?”

She shook her head.  “No Serg, not like this, this is not the pattern.  Death is a natural transition, murder is malicious and brought about by pattern wreckers.”

He moved closer to her but made no effort to touch her again.  “Sometimes the pattern needs to be wrecked so that it can begin again, set right from being wrecked before.  Can you agree with that?”

Clair huffed loudly because they both knew that she did so she refused to answer.  “Our paths change here, for better or for worse, we choose, it isn’t chosen for us,” she clarified with a great deal of passion.

Sergei nodded.  “I agree, I choose,” he emphasized the word, “not to run away from this.”


Clair, still enraged, felt her chin rise as she declared, “I choose to not let you die.”


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Friday, November 4, 2016

Karmatically Predisposed Not to Lie to Me - SPRSWB

Sergei walked into her home.  “Perhaps the anticipation of seeing you has me at a disadvantage.”
With slow deliberation he turned to her and pulled her into his arms.  He shifted and tilted her just enough that she had to grab his arms for support.  For a moment his lips hovered over hers letting her breath in as he exhaled and then returned the favor.  “Something very appealing about watching you breathe me in,” he whispered against her lips.

He watched her skin flush and her eyes dilate ever so slightly.  The woman was exquisite, God help him if she ever figured it out.  He sealed his mouth to hers.  Clair stopped bracing herself and sunk her fingers into his hair a startled sound coming from her. Sergei felt his head swim for a moment, he could get drunk just kissing this woman.  Resigned he lifted his head and resettled Clair in front of him.  They had things afoot.  “Your mother?”

Clair blinked up at him, still slightly dazed. “My mother?”

Sergei smiled despite himself.  He did understand how she felt, the control freak in him would be damned if he showed it.  “Are we going to her?”

Clair nodded. Then started wringing her hands.

Sergei took her arms into his hands. “Clair?”

She shook her head.  “I can’t... I don’t know what... how to explain...,” she huffed deeply. “I’ve never... in my life... to this degree...”

Sergei just stared at her enjoying her gapping.  “Clair, spit it out.”

“I want to jump your bones.”  Clair’s grey eyes popped open and she put her hand to her mouth staring at Sergei in an accusatory way.  “Did you, I don’t know why I just…”  She stared at him gravely.

“I told you, it was a two-way street.  I can’t lie to you either.”  Sergei said softly relief in his voice. 

“It’s starting to become a permanent state.  Before I met you I at least knew when to keep my mouth shut.  But if anyone asks me anything about you, if you ask me anything, the truth comes flying out.  Whether I want it to or not.”

Clair pulled a face thinking about this.  “Karmatically predisposed not to lie to me, that’s not so bad.”

Sergei held up his finger, “Two-way street.”

Clair shrugged.  “I don’t lie often enough to really worry about it.”

Sergei grinned at the shock mixed with horror that spread across her face.

“This sucks.” Clair winced hard as she heard her own words.

Sergei nodded.  “Not all the fun and games you thought it would be huh?”


“Not at all.”  She put up her hands.  “Let’s go.”


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Wednesday, November 2, 2016

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar - Those Witchy Rumors

Charlie took the hint well.  He got up as well and started out of the office.  “There are weird voodoo rumors circling Clair, just be careful.”  He threw over his shoulder as he was walking out.

Sergei smirked.  “And why would that be a problem?”

Charlie shrugged.  “Some guys get put out about things like that.  Weird witchy shit.  Never know what will happen when one gets uptight about you.”

“Charlie Benson, are you afraid of sweet harmless Clair?” Sergei asked clearly bemused by the prospect.

Charlie shrugged again.  “Not really but you know, it bears to wonder about.  Just in case things go sour.”

“They won’t,” Sergei winced internally, that truth trigger of his was just as hair pinned as ever.

“Confidence,” Charlie said.  “Something else geniuses have a wealth of without thinking about how hard it is for other people.”

Charlie shuffled out of the room leaving Sergei watching his back not really sure if he was okay or not.  With a huff, Sergei sat back down and stared at the screen. The chirping of the cell phone brought him away from any reflective thoughts. “Clair.” He answered recognizing the number.

“What’s your schedule like?” she asked a little impatiently.

He shrugged hearing the anxiety in her tone.  “Whatever it needs to be. I’m my own boss remember.”

“Tomorrow night, about 6:30.  My mother is free.” She said slowly.


“I’ll meet you at your place, with bells on.”  He stated ironically.


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Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Endless Night

In my next book after 'So a Psychic and Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar' called 'Shuttered Vision' one of the large installation paintings that my female lead Fiona paints is called Endless Night and it is a painting of my male lead Colan's personal nightmare hellscape. I wrote this about someone I'll always love after I wrote the first few pages regarding his hell.

I think of you when the lights go down
In the shadows I feel you smile
Dark and burning with lavacious delight
You beckon me close, my endless night

The walls they peel with falling light
Tearing through their normal plight
The world I see is built for flight
You hold me close, my endless night

The scene is bathed in black and red
All that survived the death was the bed
Dizzy I am from the staggering sight
Here we are again, my endless night

Time is lost as the world shifts
The tug, the pull, the burn are gifts
Into this place free from all sight
Never let me go, my endless night

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

And Now the Running

Sandra had a corner apartment on the third floor.  They were the only units in the building that offered the large obnoxious roman bathtubs.  The only draw back, if you saw it that way, was that they were at the end of the living group for the hallway.  The closest thing to her door was the fire escape across the hall. It was open, and Sandra loved to climb it instead of taking the elevator or the interior stairs.  In her heart of hearts Sandra was really a recluse, and this suited her.
While musing over the oddities that comprised her best friend, Charlotte had locked the door, and had that feeling. As soon as she had turned the bolt, the sudden creepy crawly feeling of being watched covered her.  It had been in a split second, but her mind had yelled RUN!!  She hadn’t thought about it, she had just reacted.  She had run to the elevator of the long hall way as the door was closing.  Then she bolted for the stairwell at the end of the hall.  Charlotte hadn’t heard the footsteps, but she had felt the eyes.
Don’t look back.’  She heard her brother in her head yelling at her.  The self-defense pointers he had given her starting to play in her mind. 
Focus on what is in front of you.  Will yourself to that place.’  She flew through the doorway to the stairwell. 
If you get a chance, hide, don’t try and outrun them.’
She turned the stairwell, and went up instead of down.  The stairwell was a myriad of walled half flights, carpeted, and quiet.  She crouched on the other side of the wall facing the steps leading to the next level hoping her pursuer didn’t realize that she was there.  Charlotte pressed her back to the wall of the stairwell flattening her palms near her hips.  She balanced on the balls of her feet ready to spring because of the low heels on her black boots.  Her breath was coming out loudly almost panting. The air-conditioned area was musty like carpet that had been left wet.  There was a single oval recessed light on each landing right above the open space before you stepped through the door.
The creaking of the door on the landing beneath her as it flew open made her stop breathing.  Charlotte swallowed her gasp. Her heart was beating so loudly it could probably be heard from the street. She flexed her hands against the wall willing herself not to move. Even as the slight sound of padded footsteps receding reached her she waited before she let out the breath she had been holding.
Be patient. Don’t make a mistake now. You’re almost there.’
Charlotte slowly moved away from the wall, and made her way back down to the landing she had come from.  She walked slowly, fearful that her pursuer would get wise, and come bolting back up the stairs at any moment. When she reached the hallway she stood nervously in front of the elevator knowing that she couldn’t go down it alone.  She paced a few moments as a crowd of young adults made their way to the elevator.  A few of the ladies had hair like hers.
Don’t shy away from people.  Other people are your best cover if someone is looking for you to be alone.
She boarded the elevator with them.  They reached the garage under the building where she had parked her F-150.  Because of her brother’s diligent teachings, she always parked very close to elevators, and always under highly lit areas.  Charlotte streaked for her F-150, and got in locking the doors, and starting the truck in the same motion.  The creepy feeling returned, and for a split second she stared into the black eyes of a tall stocky man with a greasy look and feel to him.  His face snarled as she hit reverse, shifted to drive, and burned rubber pealing out of the parking lot.
It had all happened so quickly.  She had come home locked all her doors, closed all her blinds, and battled herself into not calling the police.  What would she say?  I think this guy was following me.  Oh yeah because my best friend and me have gotten ourselves into some serious trouble with a local oil baron.  And did I mention the CIA agent that kidnapped her off to Japan.

She had finally convinced herself that she would’ve sounded nuts.  At that time she most likely would have.  After all who was to say the guy didn’t need change or something.  Maybe he was a bill collector she had missed and was trying to find Sandra.  Charlotte had spent the night concocting an array of amusing, interesting antidotes that would explain what had happened at Sandra’s apartment.  Then it had happened again.

An excerpt from Charlotte's Chance on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Fiona Canters excerpt from Shuttered Vision

She liberally applied the paint to the brush and dabbed the canvas at the right spots.  It gave the flower she was working on texture and depth.  It almost felt like the vivid shade she had seen in her dreams.  But there still wasn’t any amount or type of paint that could fully capture the texture of her dreams.  She placed the shades on her brush in the sky now and dotted the horizon.  The music playing in the background only made her hum slightly to herself following the rhythm and cadence.  She always painted to classic rock.  There was something primal about the way it moved and the way it was played that connected her with her dreamscapes almost seamlessly.  She imagined that bands like Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple conducted their music in that same place.  That was why it drew her there so completely.

Most people discounted dreams as merely unrealized desires, hopes and ambitions.  Small confessions from a person’s subconscious mind to their conscious.  These are the explanations given to them by the practitioners of psychology.  These ideals and thoughts have helped countless people deal with their neurosis and fears. For that reason, Fiona didn’t necessarily disagree with these thoughts.  She just thought it was rather limited.

Fiona Canters grew up differently than the rest of the free world within the United States of America.  When 5 year old Fiona first told her mother about one of her extraordinary dreams her mother had smiled pleased and asked her daughter to tell her what they meant.  Confused Fiona had not answered.  The very next day she had been privy to the conversations the women in her family had away from husbands, boyfriends, sons and fathers.

“Fiona dreamed last night.” Her mother had told her mother in law excitedly.

“Does she know what it means?” her aunt had asked anxiously.

Her mother proudly shook her head and then recounted the dream for the listening gaggle. With gasps of delight and praises to the Almighty they had all regarded Fiona differently. 

The Canters were a French Creole line originally that intermixed with a line that had roots in Native America, Africa and Ireland. Now they were a rainbow people where the shade of relatives spanned the realm of possibility. 

Fiona’s mother was Salvadorian, her skin the color of burnished copper, her hair fell blue black tightly curled and silky across her shoulders.  Her light brown eyes always alight with seemingly forbidden knowledge. A Canters man, her father was tan skinned by nature, dark eyed and hard to place into a particular ethnic set.  From that Fiona had emerged a shade lighter than mahogany, eyes an almost eerie shade of dark grey making them look lit from within as the iris closest to the pupil was a paler grey than the midnight that it changed into as it floated to the rims.

“Witch eyes.” Her grandmother had said that night as the women talked and she took the child’s measure for the first time.

Fiona had starred up innocently into the clear hazel eyes of the paler woman and felt that nagging suspicion of being in the presence of something that was more than it seemed.  Of course as a child she had no true idea of what it was.  Just this sudden unmistakable unshakable awareness as she peered up at the woman waiting for her to change form right before her eyes.

She had always been fearful of her father’s pale, hazel eyed mother. The woman had eyes that saw too much.  They saw everything and communicated with the souls of others without their knowledge.  These were things she had heard whispered growing up among the others.
The others were the ones of her family that had been born without that extra thing that most of the women had.  It was a generation skipping instance.  Every once in a while a woman in their line was born without that extra sense of the world, without the vision to see into others through dreams, premonitions and senses that were a family birthright.

They were raised in a different way than those with sight.  Still loved and shown the same affections and care, but kept away from the ones who bared stunning signs and levels of awareness.  It was a courtesy to both sides.  The children would grow to understand and appreciate each other before they interacted.  Understanding their differences and not treating each other badly over them. 

Before the conception of every child, the women of the family dreamed, during the pregnancy the women dreamed.  They dreamed of the child they would bare, knowing before modern technology whether a boy or a girl would be born.  When the mother conceived her entire existence was enrapt in the being she carried. And through their personal dreamscape they would understand the nature of that child. How it should be raised and what it should be led to do. 

Even those born without the special gifts procured to the blood line were dreamt of.  Regardless of whether it had been given sight or not, it would one day raise a child that most likely would be given sight.  And they needed to be raised in a fashion to be able to deal with their child’s gifts. That was why all dreams and premonitions centered around the child.

Fiona was the exception. Fiona’s mother Alejandra calls that time in her life ‘el negro’.  The dark. For the first time in her life she knew what it was to live as most people do.  She had only common sense, instincts and logic to guide her way through life.  All of her dreams during Fiona’s conception and birth had been shielded from her. All premonition and sensory insight dulled to just instances of déjà vu. Her mother in law said it was because the child she carried was blank. Meaning there was nothing to see. 

For the longest time they thought Fiona was going to be stillborn. Her mother’s gift hiding what was to come to save her enduring the pain more than once. Because of the circumstances of Fiona’s conception and birth she was raised with the children that the family knew possessed none of the gifts.

“At times mi amor, I can see what I must do with you and then I do it and like that its gone.”  Her mother would sometimes whisper at her temple as she put her to bed at night.

It wasn’t until much later at the age of 10 as Fiona started to have actual premonition episodes did she understand what her dreams as a young child meant. Slowly over the years the pieces had started to put themselves together and it implied things about her that was unnatural even for her family.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Love is Queen

When I started So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar is was a customary stand alone one off. Somewhere in the middle of writing this story I realized that situations like the one i'm describing are extraordinary. This wouldn't happen just to create a perfect love between two people. No two people are that special unless their connections have broader implications for not just them and their immediate environments but somehow for the world.

I began to explore the concept of prophecy and mythology.  I read origin stories from different religions and the concept of the world ending.  And on the back of this one novel I have plotted out 3 different connected series' as well as a stand alone series that can have as many configurations as I can think of.

Sergei and Clair began a lot more than they will ever know and I hope the reader gets to take the journey with them.  I hope they feel the fissure of excitement and joy I have whenever I open my laptop and see how Clair and Sergei are doing on their long road to fulfilling their destiny and the new direction of the world.  The common will no longer be common, the framework redesigned and love is queen.

Always w/Love,

Sue

Other Posts on this book:
That Scene with Sergei and Clair
Sergei
Clair Fair
Love is Queen
So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
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Sunday, March 20, 2016

Annniversary of Make Mine a Heel

I get nostalgic this time of year every year.  About this time 8 years ago I was inspired to do things I never dreamed and inspired to write a book I never thought possible.  I've been on a an educational research hiatus because I don't make a living on my writing yet and I do have a passionate love of education. However considering its Road to Wrestlemania season and being a Dallas TX native, I'm thrilled my city is finally getting the big one with Wreslemania 32. That being said I see no better time than now to get myself back into the game.

So 8 years ago I met a very interesting person who inspired me to want and achieve more.  Writing was always something that I admired and couldn't quite figure out how to get started.  I had a couple of failed attempts during that time but nothing I felt I could really shop.  Then I went to a Wrestlemania. . Wrestlemania 24 to be exact.  I went to see the retirement of Ric Flair a seasoned great that I have always admired. My childhood was filled with this man's work.  It only seemed right to see him off into that gorgeous sunset.  (I'm quite a fan of wrestling check out my other blog from years ago: http://suenammirichards.blogspot.com/)

Now this wasn't my first WM,  My first was Wrestlemania 17 in Houston about 15 years ago.  See how these dates are adding up. I found my ticket stub for it not too long ago and smiled fondly at the memory and laughed at myself for not being able to actually watch but mostly listen to the infamous TLC 2 match that people still talk about to this day. Nonetheless I was indeed there.

But back to WM 24. So I was there and by chance met someone else. Totally by chance it was one of those divine fate moments because there was no way to know or even suspect who I would meet. (Long story I can't make short lol) To wrestling fans he's known as the 'Rated R" superstar and to others as Adam Copeland. . actor. Which if you know anything about professional wrestling you know that was not that far of a reach. Not to discount his work. He is a very talented man in many regards. I've watched him move on with his career outside of the ring with great pride and admiration for his courage.

The thing is meeting him gave me inspiration. It struck me that in all this time I've never read a romance novel with a professional wrestler as the male lead.  It struck me as an odd and egregious oversight because clearly this man should be someone's romantic fantasy. As well as many, many other performers. So I left inspired and about 2 years later around this time I found myself with a full blown romance novel 96,000 words and one of the best things I think I've written. 

I told a couple of stories in this book, Mostly it was about my heartache of my ending marriage. I was supposed to go to WM 24 with what is now my ex husband. But best laid plans. Instead I found a fleeting hope in my soul and a need to tell one of the many love stories I wish I had as my own. So therein is the muse the inspiration and even a beginning chapter shout out to the man that without doing a single thing made me think about love again when my life needed it the most. 

But I also talked about women and men in very basic terms. It is a story about perception and how that affects life. What we see isn't always what we think it is.  And sometimes its exactly what we need regardless of what we think is happening. I always hoped that this book would help women to see love in the many many ways it can present itself and how time and distance can never make true love wane. 

I usually put the book on sale for .99 right before Wrestlemanias as a tribute and as a reminder that no matter what you cannot ever give up on love. 

And sincerely, thank you Adam Copeland.  And in more traditional wrestling venacular, 

Thank you Edge, Thank you Edge Thank you Edge.

Always w/love,

Sue
www.maryandbess.com/suenammirichards

Make Mine a Heel is available only in ebook form from most ebook vendors including Amazon and Barnes & Noble 

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Coming Soon: Brenda's Bounty

Brenda was on her third shot of Patron, and not really understanding why that memory had presented itself so freshly upon her getting home.  All she knew was that she needed to drive it out right now. It had been her first lesson in love. Only she had been too young to understand what it meant.

“Brennie Ann. .”  Brenda started in the heavily accented way her mother used to say it. “I should’ve told you, what trouble men will make ‘or ye. The greatest disservice I ev’r did to ye was ‘ot ‘elling you what a bleedin bastard yor father was for ‘eavin us till I died.”

Her mother hadn’t lived for much longer after that night. She had been near the end when the doctor relegated her to bed rest.  Instantly her gaggle of sisters that hadn’t been able to stand Anthony Margiani had not hesitated to come to their sister’s bedside. Each and every one of them, Aunt Sarabelle, Josephine, Margery and Carolyn had come to Willie’s home and stayed to make their sister as comfortable as possible as they took care of house and the child that Tony Margiani had left behind.

Brenda shivered as she remembered the last days.  Her mother had wept and called out for Anthony.  The pain from what she was experiencing had rendered her nearly mad.  Aunt Carrie had started feeding her shots of liquor to try and ease it.  But even that was eventually not enough.  Those last days she couldn’t be consoled and the whole time she had yelled the one phrase over and over again. “Tony, I ‘ought ye loved me, ‘ow could ye ‘eave me to do this alone. Our Brennie, take care of Brennie.”

Her aunt Margie would hold her in her lap rocking her and whispering in her ear the whole time. “Don’t mind ‘er love. She’s ‘ust upset. It’ll be o’er soon.” Her aunts Margie, Carrie, Sara and Josie took turns staying with her mother or staying with her. She could always feel the wetness from their tears falling into the mop of her hair. 

Brenda quickly poured herself another shot and hit it.  She let the liquid burn making her ice blue eyes water.  At least she told herself that was why her eyes watered.  Brenda hadn’t cried over anything in over 10 years.  Not something she was proud of, just a fact. 

She had spent so many years crying, over her mother, over her jilted at the alter status, over years and years of trying to please a man that only saw his failure in the eyes of his daughter. It had taken her father 2 years after the death of her mother to actually come back to Wales for her.  By then she was the community child of her four aunts, and the 6 children that were her cousins that they were also trying to raise. Her aunts were good women, but also brutal women.  Only Josie and Carrie where even still married. They spoke their mind and didn’t care who heard it or how graphic it got. They hadn’t spared Brenda’s ears over the evils of her father those years after they had bitterly buried their sister as she had jumped from house to house.

She remembered the day like it had just happened.  She had been on the streets hustling tourists.  Wasn’t something she had been proud of, but it was what all the kids were doing.  Little wharf rats they had called them. They would do bait and switch on unsuspecting travelers.  Take them through seedy neighborhoods and get them lost there. It was amazing how many people came to England looking for a waifish orphan child to swindle them. Even in the 80’s when Brenda was coming of age they expected 17th century.  She and her little crew saw opportunity and were there to deliver.

Punk rock had started to take over the airwaves and British teens and pre teens alike became rebellious and cliquish. Walking around with a chip on their shoulder and willing to thumb their noses at authority. She had been 12 years old and all bony limbs in one of her punk girl outfits.  Her favorite in fact was a red plaid school girl skirt, some torn fishnets, Doc Martens, a ripped Sid and Nancy T-Shirt and a moppish haircut like the one Chrissie Hynde wore.  All bought and paid for by her swindling money. Her aunts had gotten to the point where they didn’t ask the child how she came about these funds knowing they wouldn’t like the answer.

“Little girl, what’s your name?” the man called from the other side of the street.

She had barely glanced at him as she yelled. “Piss off,” in her roughest voice.

“Brennie..” he had called. “Brennie Ann.”

Brennie had been fine, it was the Brennie Ann that had set her off. She had turned enraged by being called that. “Sod it off old man, no one in the bleedin ‘ell calls me that any- .” she had thought to finally push her moppish bangs out of her eyes and stopped speaking as she recognized the man. “Pa,” she whispered.

He nodded down at her as he stared at her as if he couldn’t look away. “Christ you look just like her,” he whispered.

And then the rage came flooding back. “You piss’r! You left us! You left ‘er to die!” She threw herself at him trying to hit him. In her rage she only noticed after she began to get tired that he wasn’t fighting back. He was taking it; letting her rage against him.  As she wore herself out she could finally hear what he was saying.

“Mi bella, mi dispiace.” My beauty, I’m sorry.

Her rage gave way to tears as her hits became weaker and less impassioned.  He finally was able to lift her up and just hold her as she wept.

Sacramento California hadn’t been a terrible place for a teenage girl to grow up.  If you didn’t spend the whole time being a self-righteous brat.  Of course Brenda had spent most of her years with her father reminding him of what he had done wrong. Melanie, her dad’s new wife had put an end to that a few years after he had moved her there. Luckily Brenda had found the street punks in Sacramento so she always had someone to go whine too when home life became unbearable.  

But something odd happened to her when her first baby brother was born.  It had happened right there in the hospital when she had seen him for the first time.

“There he is Brennie. Your little brother, Lawrence.” She had moved her moppy bangs out of her face to stare at the bundle from the window.  He had looked so perfect, unspoiled.  She had felt this welling of hope.  It would be different for him.  She would see to it. He would be a good man, and he wouldn’t leave his family just because times got tough.  There was hope still.


It had been the same with the twins, Warren and Walter.  Each little boy represented an opportunity to build a new man.  One that would be the way they were in storybooks, and not the way they were in real life.

Brenda's Bounty Coming November 2015

Catch the 1st two books of the Series, Sandra's Social and Charlotte's Chance on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads

w/ love
Sue