Lynnette Marie Hand~Author of Paranormal Romance

The Protector's Destiny (Cont'd)

2005-09-12T10:46:00.000-04:00

After hanging up the phone, Sam looked at his watch. Too early to call the office, Sam opted to run off the tension in his body. The screen door screeched as he opened it and wandered out onto the porch.

Everything around Sam captivated him, from the silvery droplets of dew that clung to every blade of grass to the wild turkeys calling to one another in the distance. If he listened, he could hear alligators as they slithered through the swampy waters looking for prey.

Anxious to run wild, Sam quickly shucked his briefs, letting the moonlight wash over him. Some legends indicated man turned to werewolf only on nights of the full moon. Legend was wrong. All it took to make the change was a single thought. The Loup-garou only had to will themselves to change--and it was done.

Sam grimaced as his bones stretched, his joints popped. Hands and feet changed to paws, fingernails lengthened into lethal claws and teeth grew into fangs. It moments, a rich, chocolate brown fur covered Sam like a fuzzy blanket. After a few moments, the pain and disorientation ended and he jumped off the porch and headed into the swamp.

Sam wildly raced through the marshland as though the pack of vampires were out for his blood. He moved with the speed and agility of his wolf brethren, jumping over logs, sprinting after squirrels and other small prey. He ran until the chaos in his mind quieted, until only joy filled his heart and adrenaline filled his system. Running wild was a natural high to his kind, much like an adrenaline junky feels when throwing himself out of an airplane.

The sun was just peeking over the swampland when Sam returned to his home. After a quick shower, he got on the phone and started arranging his trip to New York.
With only three hours to catch his flight, he needed to get going. Sam grabbed the duffel bag he’d left next to the front door the evening before and headed for his car.

I Did It!!!

2005-09-11T14:10:00.000-04:00

Hello fellow bloggers,

Well, I did it. I sent the full manuscript of THE PROTECTOR'S DESTINY to an agent yesterday. I've got my fingers crossed as well as my ankles my toes and my eyes. Seriously, I'll be waiting on pins and needles for a response. But that too is normal for a writer.

Tomorrow I start writing on my third book of the PROTECTOR'S series. I've been away from it too long in my effort to get Destiny edited and out the door.

I'll be posting my next excert to THE PROTECTOR'S DESTINY tomorrow.

Hope the rest of your weekend is as fabulous as the weather here in NY.

A Writer's Life

2005-09-10T19:56:00.000-04:00

Before I began my writing career, I had an image in my mind as to what a stereotypical day for a writer is like. I imagined that they rolled out of bed whenever the mood struck, put on a pot of coffee, and headed straight for their computer. They’d sit there chain smoking cigarettes, still wearing whatever they happened to fall asleep in the night before, while laboriously typing and retyping their precious words.

Boy, was I wrong. Each writer has their own way of doing things. Some schedule their writing hours as though they worked a typical nine-to–five job, while others sit down and write whenever the muse strikes them. Others spend up to eighteen hours or longer in front of their monitors, stopping only when the words in front of them start to blur.

I assumed that a writer started their book at the beginning and wrote until the last scene. However, this too, is a misconception. I know some writers who plot out their books to the smallest detail and follow their outline from the start of the book to its conclusion. Other writers hop around, writing one scene after another, then pasting them together into a cohesive whole. For me I am what they call a panster. I write by the seat of my pants, letting the characters take the lead.

But the most important thing I think that all writers have in common is that we read. The more we read the better the writer we become. From genre fiction, to how to books on the publishing world, writers spend as much time reading and researching as they do writing, Thank God I have a love of books.

There is no right way or wrong way to write your novel, your poems, or your short stories. All it takes is a little perseverance, a love of the written word, and the ability to learn something new every day.

New Columnist

2005-09-08T07:01:00.000-04:00

Good Morning Bloggers!

Well, as I noted yesterday, I have some serious editing to do. I manged to edit three chapters so far, which is not nearly enough. Today, I'll work that little bit harder and make a real dent in my manuscript.

You are also looking at a new columnist for the Backwash Online Magazine Community. It can be found at www.backwash.com

I write under the alias Midnight Mist.

Check out this site. Even if you don't read my column, there is lots to choose from.

Have a fabulous Thursday. Ta Ta for now...

News of the Agent Hunt

2005-09-07T09:16:00.000-04:00

Woohoo! I'm jumping for joy. I received word yesterday that an agent has requested my full manuscript. I'm so happy I could run a marathon and still have energy to spare.

Well, today's goals are set in stone. Edit! Edit! Edit!

Hope you all are having a fabulous start to your Wednesday.

Excerpt: The Protector's Destiny Chapter 1 (Cont'd)

2005-09-05T15:02:00.000-04:00

The telltale click of the pen in the background, Blake’s trademark sound for thinking, of anticipating the hunt, was a good sign. “Yeah, Author Elizabeth Winters. Make her top priority.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“She’s written an interesting book about how our kind is forced to fight the vampire. I want her found.” He glanced out sliding glass doors, anxious for a run. Anything to rid himself of the tension building within his body.

“Got it. Anything else I need to know?”

Leaning against the living room wall, Sam ran his fingers through his hair before he admitted his greatest hope. “My gut tells me that she may be one of us.”

“No problem, Sam. You know how committed I am to finding those of our people who have been forced to go into hiding. Do you want me to put the other projects on the back burner?”

“For now. I have a strong feeling about this. Besides, you still have feelers out if any of your sources locate my sister, and your assistant can continue to track crime rates in the major US cities. Mark will let you know if anything jumps out at him.”

“That’s true. All right. I’ll get right on this. I’ll give you a call when I have something solid to pass on.”

With a quick goodbye, Sam decided to go ahead and pack a bag for travel. It wouldn’t take Blake long to track down the information Sam requested. For now, Sam could do nothing more. It was in Blake’s hands now.

After several hours checking through online WebPages, DMV records and genealogy sites, Blake finally determined a possible location of Ms. Winters. During his search, he also learned about the massacre of her entire family. If the articles held true, Elizabeth Winters was lucky to be alive. It was time he called Sam.

For the last five years, Blake knew it had been Sam’s mission in life to locate as many of their species as possible. Even finding one more of their people could tip the balance in their favor in the current war between them and the evil that stalks the night. He was proud to work alongside their Alpha in his quest.

The ringing telephone woke Sam from a restless sleep. Unsolved mysteries tended to do that to him; this one especially so. He needed to find out who the woman was. Sam knew in the deepest part of his soul that Ms. Winters would be vitally important to their cause.

Fumbling in the dark, Sam finally managed to put the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he said, his voice filled with worry. Phone calls this early in the morning were usually bad news.

“Morning, Sam. Did I wake you?”

Sam glanced over at his alarm clock. “It’s three in the morning, Blake. Of course, you woke me. I take it you found something?”

“You could say that. I managed to track down some pretty interesting information about Ms. Winters.”

With a few sentences, Blake filled Sam in on what he discovered.

“So you think she’s one of our people?” asked Sam. Excited now, Sam tossed the covers back and looked around for his shorts. It was still too hot and muggy to wear much else, even at three in the morning.

“Odds are she is. Do you want me to keep investigating, maybe follow her for a few days, from a distance of course?”

“I think I’m going to check on this myself. Where is she?”

“She owns some land in Upstate, New York. A cabin in the Adirondacks. I’ll e-mail the address, and the rest of the information I’ve gathered, to you.”

“That’d be great. And Blake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for jumping on this for me. I owe you one.”

Woohoo...I'm writing again

2005-09-05T13:47:00.000-04:00

Well, today is Monday, Labor day, and I finally managed to carve out some time to write today. Even with company coming I was determined to get something written. So, in between making my homemade barbecue sauce and boiling the eggs for the potato salad, I managed an hour of time to sit my bum in the chair and create.

It felt good to strech my creative muscles after a week of doing nothing but watching the news and praying for the hurricane survivors. I have to ask myself, why didn't I write through the trauma, express myself rather than wallow in the grief of others?

Well, I'm writing now and thats all that matters. By the way, I went a whole week without a single rejection, or acceptance for that matter. In this instance, is no news good news?

A writing holiday

2005-09-01T10:57:00.000-04:00

Well, I got absolutely no writing done on Wednesday. I spent a rare day relaxing. By relaxing, I mean, I didn’t write. I didn’t edit. In fact, I celebrated. I just became a columnist for Backwash.com, on online magazine and social community.

But, today is a new day, and I have much to get accomplished. After all, I have a column to write.

Once again, my thoughts go out to all those who have loved ones in the Gulf Coast Region of the US.

Hurricane Katrina

2005-08-31T12:37:00.000-04:00

I've been watching the news all morning and the footage they are showing of the damage caused by Hurricane Katrina is terrifying. We're just now feeling her effects up here in the north, a little rain, and wind. For all those with family and loved ones in the gulf coast region, my heart and prayers go out to you, that you and yours are safe this day.

I urge you to donate to the American Red Cross to help the survivors, as they struggle to come to terms with all that they've suffered, and will continue to suffer over the next few weeks, or months.

Letting our babies go...

2005-08-30T08:36:00.000-04:00

Well, the end of the summer is quickly approaching, signaling the beginning of a new academic year. Whether your students are starting kindergarten, or beginning their last year of college, we each feel as though we’re losing a little bit of ourselves once they step out the door.

It’s a stage we all must go through, either as the one doing the leaving or the one letting go.

Writing is the same way, eventually you have to let it walk out the door, letting a little piece of yourself go with it. At the end of the day, you’re waiting impatiently for word of how your baby has done.

To everyone who has let a little bit of yourselves walk out the door, whether it is your written work or a child heading back to school, keep your chin up. You can tough it out.

Next Excerpt

2005-08-29T19:08:00.000-04:00

MAY, NEW ORLEANS

Moody, edgy, and ready to rip the throat out of the next person who walked into his office, Samuel Woods paced from one end of the room to the other, stepping around the conference table and sofa sitting in his path. Uncharacteristically agitated, and with his normally ordered thoughts chaotic, Sam growled. For just a moment his control slipped. Something unheard of in regards to him.

Out of the window of his seventh story downtown office, Sam watched the citizens of New Orleans hurry through their day, blissfully unaware of the emotion raging through him while he tried to collect his thoughts. All he could think about was the book he’d just finished reading.

As a hobby, Sam enjoyed reading books about the paranormal— Vampires and werewolves, witchcraft and telepathy. Each subject interested him equally and his hunger to learn more created a growing collection in his home library.

It always amazed him humans didn’t believe werewolves and vampires existed, thinking them only fictional characters created to frighten little children.

Humans didn’t live their lives in fear of extinction, content to think creatures of the night were only products of their imagination. If everyone knew how close they’d come to being enslaved by the Vampire on a daily basis, perhaps they’d learn to work together instead of warring amongst themselves.

Sam glanced over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the paperback lying on his desk. Instinct warned him the author of the latest paranormal novel to hit the stand did so by printing first hand knowledge of the Loup-garou. The text was too accurate; the images the author invoked too unerringly explicit. His people were hunted—their lives in mortal danger, their numbers few. How could Elizabeth Winters write so accurately about life as a werewolf?

Lost in thought, questions and theories floated through his mind. No matter how hard he thought, only one logical solution to this riddle came to mind. Sam needed to go right to the source.

Unfortunately, he would have to find her first. He needed to call Blake Donovan. Blake could find anyone or anything in no time at all. Blake seemed to live for such challenges. He was a damn good P.I., and an even better friend, not to mention his second in command.

An urgent demand filled him, out in the open to think, and find the peace he desperately needed. Resolute in his decision, Sam strode back to his desk and gathered his jacket and car keys.

After a last look around the office, Sam set the alarm, turned off the lights, and strode out into the night. As he sat behind the wheel of his SUV, he contemplated a course of action. The first step was to get in touch with Blake.

Intent on beginning the investigation as soon as possible, he hit the speed dial on his cell phone. For some reason, he felt a personal connection to the writer. His exceptionally accurate instincts were screaming at him to find her, to make contact. Somehow, she was important to him personally; he knew it without a doubt.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he waited for Blake to answer. The phone rang three times before the answering machine picked up.

“Donovan. Leave a message.”

Sam grunted. He hated answering machines, yet everyone seemed to have one. “Blake, it’s Sam. I have a job for you. Give me a call at the house.”

Frustrated by the delay, Sam sighed, disconnected and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. After checking for oncoming traffic, Sam pulled out and headed for the highway. From crowded Jazz clubs to sold-out walking tours, New Orleans came alive in the evening. Sam hoped to be long gone before that happened.

The city faded in his rearview mirror as he sped toward his sanctuary, the plantation. He loved watching the stars as they filled the evening sky. Tonight, with the nearly full moons brilliance shimmered against the ground.

Unable to help himself, he rolled down his window and breathed in the mixed scents of the humid swamp air and the forest that surrounded him. In the darkening sky, a raven circled. A sharp cry filled the night as it called for its mate. Sam let his gaze cut through the towering oaks and Spanish moss to where a small herd of white-tailed deer foraged.

If the pantry hadn’t been full, he would have stopped and hunted for fresh meat. He shrugged and braked the SUV as a seven-foot crocodile crossed the road ahead of him.
The surrounding beauty soothed him. The peace in the wilderness spoke to him, and no matter how he searched, he could find it nowhere else. This was his refuge; it ensured his privacy and guarded his secrets.

Sam parked in the oak-lined driveway of his home. Built in the Grecian style in 1855 by his ancestors, the house remained as beautiful and stately as it had been when built. The mansion had a wide veranda and six massive limestone columns. A low-pitched triangular gable towered above the solid oak door; narrow windows flanked the front entrance.

His estate included a large carriage house, stable, log cabin, and several other original buildings he slowly but painstakingly modernized over the years.
He opened the windows to release the musty stale air. Having stayed in the city all week, the place needed fresh air wafting through it.

As he kicked off his shoes, the telephone rang. After dropping his keys on the entry table, he sprinted to the living room and grabbed the phone. “Hello”
“Hey, Sam. You have a job for me?”

Rainy days...

2005-08-29T08:58:00.000-04:00

What is it about rainy days that makes us so glum and unproductive? Is it the weather itself that causes us to turn into slugs for the day, or is it all in our minds?

Determined not to let the gloomy day deter me, I've closed all the blinds and turned on all the lights. Perhaps that will give me the inspiration I need to get on with the things I need to do today.

My house is a mess, my manuscript stills needs some serious editing, and let's not forget that there's still book 3 out there only partially wirtten.

Will the rain get me down, or will I defeat my inner gloom and get to work?

We'll have to wait and see...

And to everyone living in Louisiana, and the rest of the gulf region, my thoughts are with you!!!

The Great Agent Hunt Continues...

2005-08-29T00:25:00.000-04:00

Well, I got some news on the Great Agent Hunt this weekend. I received another rejection letter on Saturday. Another one to add to my growing pile. I’m told this is normal but it’s still hard to swallow. So, to celebrate my rejection I sent out two more queries. And so, the Great Agent Hunt Continues…

Ta Ta for now

Sunday~A Day of rest?

2005-08-28T21:43:00.000-04:00

Today is Sunday. It’s supposed to be a day of rest but weekends seem to be the busiest days of the week. We run around, trying to get everything done that we put off during the week.

This weekend, I decided that I was indeed going to rest, having spent the last three weeks or longer, editing my manuscript.

But, old habits die hard and I found myself once again at the computer on Saturday.

What is it that keeps me tied to my seat? Is it my desire to get the book written, for it to be perfect? Or, is it simply that I find that it really isn’t in me to take a day off from my writing.

There’s a saying among writers: Writer’s write. So, I guess that’s the true reason I find myself at the computer day after day, night after night. Writer’s write and I have a story to get back to.

Enjoy your day of rest.

Are you a writer?

2005-08-27T19:13:00.000-04:00

As a writer, people are fascinated by what I do. I’m peppered with questions, some flattering and some not so. The single most asked question is where do you get your ideas? The answer is: everywhere. It could come from a news article, a commercial I heard on the radio, even a dream.

In fact, it’s not the ideas that are hard to come by; it’s the ability to tell the story. For some is comes naturally. For others, it takes hard work, a lot of patience, and the willingness to keep trying until it the story comes out just the way you want it.

But what makes a writer a writer is the fact that he or she can’t do anything but write. Whether you’re a natural born storyteller or have to work at it, if you wake up needing to write then you’re a writer. So, what are you waiting for. Pick up that pencil and pad of paper, and start writing. It could be as simple as a journal entry or the beginning of a novel.

What a fabulous Morning

2005-08-26T05:35:00.000-04:00

Not really, but it could be. You never know if today you're luck will turn, or whether for better or worse.

I've updated my blog some, having including a few interesting sites about the subjects near and dear to my heart. Have a browse and if you know of a subject within the paranormal realm you think should be included post a comment and I'll make sure to add it to my list.

Here's hoping everyone's weekend is full of fun and relaxation. I'll be biting my nails waiting to hear more in my hunt for an agent.

Ta Ta for now!!!

Editing...Will it never end?

2005-08-25T08:33:00.000-04:00

Thursday morning here...And I'm busy editing the first three chapters of the second book in the series. Just in case I get a request for a partial on that one too. Still no word in the last couple of days on my Great Agent Hunt. Perhaps, no news is good news.

I've posted a couple of excerpts from my first novel here, but If you'd like to keep up to date, then click the link on the sidebar that says "join My Yahoo Group". I'll be posting excerpts there twice a week or more. You'll find the first three chapters there already in the files section.

I hope to see you in my group. Enjoy your Thursday everyone!!!

Hump Day...And an excerpt

2005-08-24T13:05:00.000-04:00

Hi Folks...

I'm getting a lot accomplisehd as far as editing goes. Another five chapters completed last night. Only 12 more to go...

Just because I'm in the mood, here's another excerpt:

“I’m going to have to fight my way out.” She looked around for a weapon, anything to use against the vampire should he get close enough. Trash littered the ground, but nothing she could use to destroy the beast.

With nowhere to go, Elizabeth tossed back her head in frustration. She wanted to scream, but that would only bring the creature even closer. No matter which way she turned, she remained trapped. Unable to run, unable to hide. With no other choice, she knew she’d have to fight to survive the night.

An unnatural calm descended upon her. Fear wouldn’t force her to run away. It’s time she stood up for herself, stood up for her people.

For hundreds of years, the undead stalked and ravaged her kind. Whole packs exterminated to give vampires free reign to enslave the human population. For once, she’d turn the tables.

A foul wailing wind heralded the creature’s approach. Time had run out. Elizabeth quickly slipped off her clothes and let her mind go blank. Her instincts took over. Only the need to finish what she’d started crowded her mind.

Eyes closed, Elizabeth let the change come. Muscles stretched and contorted, joints popped. Bones changed shape and grew. Power and strength surged through her body, completing the transformation. She dropped to all fours, as ready as she could be with no time to prepare. The disorientation and the pain of the transformation ended abruptly, as though it never occurred.

Braced for the upcoming battle, Elizabeth’s lips curled, she growled low in her throat. The fur on her neck bristled, her coat rippled as muscles bunched as the vampire approached.

The creature stood only a few feet away. His black jeans and tee shirt hung loosely over his gaunt frame. Gray skin stretched tightly across a hollow-cheeked face, its teeth yellow with decay. His presence caused a chill to run up and down her spine, her fur to stand on end. He smelled of foul blood, and decay.

“What a surprise. You’ve stopped running. I would have caught up with you eventually.” His voice was like death bones rattling, a hollow keening sound she would remember as long as she lived. She circled him, keeping him in front of her, unwilling to expose her back.

She shivered, terrified of the evil thing standing in front of her, but unwilling to back down, unable to back down. She’d never get away now. It was fight or die.

He loomed over her; his tongue ran across his teeth in anticipation. “You think you can challenge me, bitch? You empaths are all alike, but you don’t have the fortitude.” Soulless eyes swept her form, his attitude negligent. “I’ve won already. You might as well get down on your belly and grovel.” With a confident sneer, the vampire attacked.

One phrase echoed in her mind, ‘Overconfidence kills’. Muscles bunched and her mind churned furiously as she tried to figure out how to exploit his weakness. It would be his downfall.

Arms reached out for her, a blur of movement. In less than a second, the wolf ducked under the creature’s outstretched arms and raked the vampire’s back with her claws as she passed. Even with her speed, she didn’t escape unscathed. Caught unaware, a fist caught her side, sending her tumbling to the ground. The rough pavement scraped the fur from the side of her muzzle. Her breath caught as a lance of pain pierced her.

The vampire’s blood splattered them both. The blood worked like an acid, burning through fur to skin and the muscle beneath. She stumbled to her feet, howled in pain, in anger, and charged again.

Repeatedly the pair came together, each doing their best to destroy the other. It was only a matter of time before she’d be too weak to go on. Weary, the wolf circled the creature knowing it was only a matter of time before weakness overcame her body, leaving her prey to his attack. Even knowing this, she still refused to run. Her kind had been running from the Vampire for as long as she’d been alive, longer even. No more running from her. Nevertheless, if she had to die, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Dawn lighted the sky, the sunrise a heartbeat away. Almost too weak to stand, she watched the vampire stalk forward for one more strike. She tried a second too late to dodge his venomous claws.

Blood covered her once raven black fur. Bleeding heavily, with too many wounds to count, she staggered, yet somehow remained upright. How would she survive? Too weak to fight, too weak to run, she howled. She howled in rage; howled in pain.

As though the heavens themselves heard her cries, the first rays of dawn’s light poked its head over the horizon. The vampire made an inhuman sound as his flesh began to smoke. The suns light forced him to flee before he could finish her off. His evil voice echoed from the alley as he fled, “This is not the end…I will find you again. No matter where you run, where you hide. I will find you…”

Too weak to hunt for a suitable place to hide, the wolf used the last of its strength to shift back into its human form. Her injuries would heal themselves eventually, even the gouges the vampire’s venomous claws made to her face, neck and arms.

Each move she made caused her muscles to tighten and pain to rack her frame. She dressed clumsily, slowly, for her once great strength depleted. She needed to get to safety before someone noticed her injuries and called an ambulance.

Muscles quivered in pain and exhaustion and Elizabeth made her decision. No more running. No more hiding. It was time to reclaim her life. Time to live up to her destiny. She turned toward the dawn and started home.

Happy News!!!

2005-08-23T12:54:00.000-04:00

Wow...Monday was an excellant day. I received another request for the first three chapters of my book. And managed to edit nearly 10 chapters last night. An amazing feat thanks to some friends.

This agent's turn around time is three weeks so I need to get my bum in gear and get the rest of the book completely edited. Just in case he request the full manuscript.

If your into reading something a little different, i guess you'd say alternative check out this link. It belongs to my friend/critique partner/webmistress/publicist.

www.alternative-read.com

Catch you tomorrow!!

Monday morning blues...

2005-08-22T11:38:00.000-04:00

Well, it's Monday morning here, getting close to noon. I'm back to work editing again, working on the openings of two novels at once. Can anyone say nightmare? Anyway, I'm making progress with the first book of the series, The Protector's Destiny, and am about to send the first three chapters on to TOR. Wish me luck that they request the full manuscript. I also have two agents waiting on these chapters so I better get back to work...

Hope your Monday and the rest of the week goes well. Ta ta for now.

Sunday~A Day of Rest

2005-08-21T17:15:00.000-04:00

Well, it’s Sunday afternoon and I’m glad to say that I finally have my website up and running. I’ve taking the day off from the monotonous editing that I’ve been doing on my novels to spend the day preparing for this coming week. I have much to accomplish this coming week and I’m hoping that by posting here regularly I’ll get a lot more accomplished.

I hope your weekend has been a pleasant one. And just because I’m in the mood here is an excerpt of my first novel, The Protector’s Destiny, which I hope will be picked up for publication soon.

Excerpt:

It was the most dangerous part of the night. Terrible things happen in the hours before dawn. Malevolent things. Evil stalked the night, its weight a fist crushing her soul.

Diving into the sea of humans overflowing Bourbon Street, Elizabeth moved through the crowd, looking for an avenue of escape. Doorways, alleys, everywhere, humans gathered, tossing back drinks and collecting beads. No place safe.

The streets spilled over with people too caught up in lust and alcohol to notice Elizabeth as she made her way silently through their midst, to frightened to risk drawing attention to herself.

Women bared their breasts to the crowd. Did the evil one stalking her notice, or was he too caught up in the hunt?

Someone hung plastic beads around her neck. Irritated, she reached up with a shaky hand and jerked on the plastic beads, tearing them away. Beads scattered unnoticed to the ground, crunched under her feet in her rush. Face forward she focused more on her surroundings and less on the people, determined to find her elusive asylum. Surely, there was an avenue of escape close by.

She needed to get out of the populated areas of the city so she could change into her wolf form. She was putting everyone in imminent danger by staying amongst the revelers.

Bolting down one alley, then another and another, Elizabeth’s feet splashed through puddles as she ran. Her heart hammered in her chest, knocked hard against her ribs. She moved further and further away from the crowds. The more distance she gained, the more comfortable she became. It didn’t take long for Elizabeth to leave the Quarter behind, yet still she ran.

The wind picked up speed, howled through the streets as lightening blazed a path across the sky. The frozen pellets of rain pierced her body like needles in a voodoo doll, weakening her. Still she ran. She ran for her life—for the life of the humans who didn’t know she existed, to keep them safe from the undead.

Beneath her skin, along her nerve endings, the tension grew. The vampire gained on her. The evil one’s stench reached out to envelope her. It smelled of brimstone and fire, of blood and death, and it suffocated her.

Elizabeth slipped around the corner. Glanced back. No one yet. She dashed down the next alley and clutched her throat. No! A dead end.

Welcome...

2005-08-21T17:04:00.000-04:00

Welcome to my Blog!!! I've had a heck of a time getting this set up but hopefully all is well now. I write Paranormal Romance, which basically means I write about werewolves, vampires, action scenes and sex!! So, stop on by regularly to see my latest excerpt from my work or hear about the Great Agent Hunt I'm currently on.