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Sunday, October 31, 2010

My Friendly Ghosts


By special request, I'm reposting my ghostly post from last year. This is for you, Savanna. Enjoy!





I love Halloween. All the movies, good and bad, fill the cable networks. I’ve been watching SyFy and Chiller for the most part. I love vampires, werewolves and the apparitions. The absurdly stupid, the insanely gory – I love the breath-holding, the heart-pounding terror, the jumpiness.

The paranormal has always fascinated me much to my mother’s despair.

In school, junior high age, we played around with séances in the locker room after gym class, until one of the girls told on us. We’d get hall passes to get out of class and meet in a specific bathroom where we’d turn off the light, stand in front of the mirror, calling for ‘Mary Jane’ – we’d done this several times with nothing happening. And then one day, earlier in the day, only three of us met up. We didn’t really expect anything, but we enjoyed the attempt.

Oh, wow!

A swirling fog appeared in the mirror and we heard sounds like chains rattling. We didn’t hang around for more. We were out of there and down the hall before we realized it and stopped to confirm that each of us saw and heard the same thing. They decided it was enough for them.

However, with my fascination, I wasn’t so easily put off. Wasn’t I frightened? Oh, yeah! Still, I worked myself up to trying it on my own. At first, just being alone in there with the light off was enough send my heart racing and back out the door. Gradually, I worked up to the point where I went all the way. I will tell you right now, that was the last time I did it, too. When the fog cleared and a face appeared in the mirror, I went screaming and didn’t stop until the janitor caught up with me outside the building. It scared the heebie-jeebies out of me, and mom had been called to the school. Never a good thing. She pushed me to church every week after that. I didn’t mind, I met a boy. LOL Whether or not that was the lesser of the two evils for her or not, I don’t know. Not that I was a bad kid, but I think I was growing up way too fast for her.

There’s always been something going on around me. Much I didn’t put together until many years later – hindsight tends to make things clearer. I think my mom tried to shield me while down playing whatever was happening with me. That’s a curse/gift story for another post altogether.

For many years, we've lived with ghosts on and off. We accepted it as no big deal once we adjusted, or had an understanding. Maybe the movies are partly responsible, maybe because we’ve never felt threatened by them, really. Were we ever afraid for the boys’ safety? Only once.

My favorite ghosts were children, we believe. We had bought a house in New Underwood, South Dakota back in the 80’s. A two-story house set near the downtown area of this town of 500. We only had the two older boys at the time and they were school age. My husband worked days at Ellsworth Air Force Base, so it was me along with two kitties and a dog at home. After a month or so, I began hearing noises upstairs. At first, I thought one of the cats had found a stray toy and was batting it around. Then I noticed both of them were sleeping right there in the room with me, and the dog was outside. I was afraid to go upstairs and check it out for myself being new to the house, so I called my husband. He laughed and waited on the phone while I bravely crept up the squeaky steps. I reached the bedroom doorway and peeked around the door jam. No one was in there, but I noticed the bucket of Lincoln logs was in the middle of the room, open. Several pieces lay on the floor, some stacked as if someone were building something. The boys had not left them there. It was a rule and I had checked their rooms before they'd left.

I hightailed it down the stairs and demanded my husband come home right then. I waited outside the entire twenty-minute drive it took to get from the base.

He was laughing when he stepped from the car. Yeah, I have to admit, I must have looked a sight, sitting on the stoop with a stick in one hand and gripping the collar of our German Shorthair with the other as well as the two cats huddled in my lap, wondering why I interrupted their naps.

So, yeah, maybe too many movies influenced my common sense.

Still, having him home lifted much of the fear. I let the dog go, grabbed the kitties and moved from in front of the door. Following my knight in olive drab into the house, I was all but in his back pocket as he thoroughly checked the downstairs, and then crept up the creaky steps.

He stopped half way up and put out a hand stopping me. I hadn’t heard anything, but felt a moment of satisfaction that maybe he had. We listened and nothing. He went on up and into the boy’s room. I looked around him and my mouth fell open. There were no toys out of place. It was as the boys had left it.

I stood there as he looked under the beds, in the closet while trying to convince him I hadn’t imagined what I saw. He crossed the hall and I followed, watching him check the walk-in closet, and the attic closet behind the room. The house was clear of intruders.

I felt somewhat better and he returned to work. What he doesn’t know is that I sat in the corner of the living room on alert until the boys came home. In my warped mind, I feared if I made noise, that I might not hear danger approach.

In the weeks to come, we joked about it. I still heard the play going on only when I was home alone, but never talked of it. I never bothered checking it out. I stayed downstairs and they stayed upstairs.

And then the day came where my husband’s schedule was changed and he was home during the day. The very first day, I was in my little bit of heaven, sitting in my chair with one cat along side me, the other on my lap and knitting away on a blanket. The sounds of kids playing filtered down. I looked over and watched him for a reaction. Pretty soon, he lowered the book he was reading and stared up at the ceiling then at me.

He got up and headed to the stairs. I followed, of course. By now, we’d fixed most of the squeaks in the steps, and knew how to avoid the ones we left to notify us of the kids coming down. We stood outside the doorway and listened. Yes, the noises still went on. We stepped into the doorway and stopped. There in the middle of the room were tinker toys, Legos and Lincoln logs moving around the floor and being stacked. We looked at one another and backed out. He followed me downstairs and sat in his chair silent for a long time.

I made tea and sat on the arm of his chair. He looked at me and said, “I guess we have ghosts.”

Seriously, what was there to say, or do?

The one we did worry about was in our next home. We’d been transferred to Robins Air Force Base, Georgia. We bought a mobile home in Warner Robins. Not long after we moved in, I began to find our front door open in the middle of the night. At first, I wondered if one of the boys had been sleepwalking. They never had before, but uprooting children can have adverse affects. I, too, worried that Jesse, who was four at the time, had decided to sit outside during the night watching the stars and what not. He was fascinated with weather and I often found him sitting in front of the weather channel or CMT during the night.

Things escalated where footsteps in the hallway would wake me and I’d rush out of the bedroom. I hated the layout of the bedrooms. The older boys had the room nearest the front door, the younger ones the room down the hall from them and the master bedroom was at the back. Anyway, the younger two boys would be sound asleep in their beds.

As I went on down the hall, a breeze passed over my face. Never a good sign. When I reached the dining room, I found the patio door wide open. My heart raced and pounded, almost tripping over itself. Continuing on, I’d slip into the other bedroom where my older two were zonked.

Not quite relieved, however, I snatched up a baseball bat and went on through the place. The front door stood open. I crept up on it, then quickly shut it, slamming the bolt in place and locking the deadbolt as we did every night. Slowly, I circled through the living room, hoping I didn't run into anyone as I went through the kitchen back into the dining room. After shutting the patio door and securing it, I tripped over the chair that’d been turned from the table. Then, like a scaredy-cat, I ran back to the bedroom and climbed into bed. It never failed, that’s when my husband would wake. “Are you ok?” he’d ask and be asleep before I could answer.

This went on for several weeks, and needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep. The constant fear of something happening to the boys, the fear of someone playing games until we simply ignored it before they came in with the big blow sat in my mind like a rock. I’d been through something like that before with a business which was eventually burglarized.

While all this was going on, we were on the realtor’s case to give us a history on the place. She didn’t want to bother the elderly we bought it from; the lady was ill; she’d gone to visit family; the excuses became endless until we said we’d go over her head and claim a full-disclosure wasn’t given. Come to find out, the elderly woman’s husband had died in our bedroom. He never slept well, so he’d wonder at night; open the doors and sit staring out the patio door when he felt too warm.

It helped so much to know this. The next time I heard him, I simply asked him to keep the doors shut and locked for the safety of the boys. We fixed the screen door on the patio so it locked tight and he could open the glass for a breeze. Once we had that taken care of, we all lived happily ever after. Well, until we noticed he didn’t seem to be there any longer. We thought maybe he found his wife and went to stay with her, then we learned she passed on and we knew he was content then.


Here, the only ghost we’ve had is my grandfather. I swear, I enjoyed him as much then as I did when he was alive. He was playful, teasing and so much fun to be around. We’d always had a special bond. He came to stay with us the night he died. I’d just received the news and he was right there comforting me. He caressed my cheek and talked to me with my husband sitting right there. For two years, he stayed with us. Sometimes I had to scold him. It didn’t bother me that he’d walk through the house or sit in the den and watch television with sound up loud. It bothered me when I’d be sitting here engrossed in a story and suddenly he’d start opening and shutting the front door. He wanted company. He missed grandma. For many years, they’d sit around the dining table watching television and she’d either be doing word searches or crocheting. They were beloved soul mates and were married more than seventy years when he passed. The day we buried grandma is when he left us to be with her.
So now you know why I'm just plain strange. ;)

Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net/

Saturday, October 30, 2010

PUMPKINNAPPER - 2011 EPIC eBook Competition Finalist and CONTEST



Lightning strikes again! Pumpkinnapper is a finalist in the 2011 EPIC eBook Competition in the Historical Romance category. After my Lady of the Stars finalled in Science Fiction Romance in last year's EPIC contest, I didn't expect to final again. I'm two for two now--both my entries in the EPIC contest have finalled. Thank you, EPIC. And just in time for Halloween, too.

CONTEST: Chance to win a copy of Pumpkinnapper this weekend, October 30 and 31. Long and Short Reviews (LASR) is running a Halloween Scavenger Hunt. Search the participants' websites for a chance to win prizes. I contributed a PDF copy of Pumpkinnapper. LASR will select the winner. See http://www.longandshortreviews.com/promo.htm for all the details.

So, here it is!


Let me tell you a tale of a love triangle: man, woman and goose. Join the fun as Henry the man and Henry the goose spar over heroine Emily's affections while they try to capture the foul (or is it fowl?) pumpkin thieves.

BLURB:
Pumpkin thieves, a youthful love rekindled and a jealous goose. Oh my!

Last night someone tried to steal the widowed Mrs. Emily Metcalfe's pumpkins. She's certain the culprit is her old childhood nemesis and the secret love of her youth, Henry, nicknamed Hank, whom she hasn't seen in ten years.

Henry, Baron Grey, who's never forgotten the girl he loved but couldn't pursue so long ago, decides to catch Emily's would-be thief. Even after she reveals his childhood nickname--the one he would rather forget. And even after her jealous pet goose bites him in an embarrassing place.

Oh, the things a man does for love.

EXCERPT:
"Emily, even with Henry, formidable as he is--" Hank glared at the goose. The goose glared back "--you need protection. I will send over some footmen to guard the place."

"No. Turnip Cottage belongs to Charlotte's husband. What will the townspeople think, with Lord Grey's servants about my house?"

Her refusal increased his fury. The sight of her hand on that damned goose's head didn't improve his mood, either. He balled his fists as his patience thinned and something else thickened. "I'll find you a guard dog. You must have some protection out here all alone."

"But I have Henry." She patted the goose's head and the bird snuggled into her hand. Again.

Heat flooded Hank, part desire for Emily's touch, and part desire to murder that damned goose, who was where he wanted to be. His insides groaned. "Very well, then, you leave me no choice. I will help you catch the culprits."

"But--"

He changed his voice to the voice that either melted a woman or earned him a slap in the face. "Who knows, mayhap we would enjoy ourselves as I lie in wait with you." I would love to lie with you.

Her eyes widened. Had she understood the innuendo?

"I cannot stay alone with you, and you know it," she said, her voice severe.

"You are a widow in your own home and no one will see. I will make sure of it."

"No." She marched back into her cottage and slammed the door. Henry smirked and waddled away.

Hank grinned. He would be back, whether she liked it or not.

BUY LINK: http://www.thewildrosepress.com/pumpkinnapper-p-3685.html

CONTEST: Chance to win a copy of Pumpkinnapper this weekend, October 30 and 31. Long and Short Reviews is running a Halloween Scavenger Hunt. Search the participants' websites for a chance to win prizes. I contributed a PDF copy of Pumpkinnapper. LASR will select the winner. See http://www.longandshortreviews.com/promo.htm for all the details.

Thank you all,
Linda
Linda Banche
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!
http://www.lindabanche.com

Thursday, October 28, 2010

A Different Paranormal - Gifts of the Senses

Instead of Paranormal vamps, witches, demons, werewolves, and shifters, my world of the Paranormal deals with the senses. Those sixth senses some are gifted with -- almost "special powers" to know the unknowable, the ability to do the unthinkable, or perhaps to communicate in unusual ways.  I've always been fascinated with psychics, healers, mediums, and those people who just seem to "know" things. 

My paternal grandmother was a mountain woman. She knew and easily accepted that there were forces on our Earth not meant to be understood. She believed in "seers" and "healers," yet she was one of the most down-to-earth, practical women I ever knew. 

My maternal grandmother was part Native American. I never met her, but heard lots of stories about her. She also believed in things and abilities "not of this world." She foretold the drowning of her oldest son, the death of her infant son (Crib-death), and also her own death months before either happened.  Is it any wonder that I am fascinated with special psychic abilities?
 
We all have hunches, gut feelings, and make instinctive decisions which we accept as a normal part of our lives. Women are often credited with a special "intuition" particularly where our children are concerned. Many researchers believe this is a dormant form of Extra Sensory Perception. We no longer need these senses to survive and most of us never use or develop them. But it is widely believed that a severe trauma or shock can switch on such abilities.    

When I began writing, my fascination with the world of the Paranormal in the form of the sixth senses found an outlet in my work. 

Looking Through the Mist tells of a psychic who has visions of children who are the victims of crimes. 

While writing this story, I felt this would be one of the hardest things to deal with  -- the horror of seeing children being kidnapped or harmed in one's mind, but be unable to do anything to stop it. And also not to know if it had already happened, was happening at the moment, or would happen in the future. 

Would you want such a gift?

Would you prefer the gift of clairvoyance, precognition, healing, or telepathy if you could choose? 
Have you ever thought what you would do with such a gift?

Following Destiny involves another special gift -- hearing voices from an ancestor's ring. These voices give warnings of death.

I've often thought of how wonderful it would be to talk with my ancestors and ask them what their lives were like. Think of the history they could share with us. But what if all they had to share were warnings and dire predictions?  

Would we listen to our ancestors or refuse to believe?
If you had a chance to find out what your destiny held in store, would you want to know?

Drop by Romance With a Twist to find out more about each of these books.


With this being the week of Halloween, I wanted to share a legend that deals with the Paranormal senses:
      
Divination rituals such as the one depicted on this early-20th-century Halloween Greeting Card, where a woman stares into a mirror in a darkened room to catch a glimpse of the face of her future husband while a witch lurks in the shadows, may be one origin of the Bloody Mary legend.

Would you look in the mirror?
              

Romance and Awakening to Your Inner Witch


Happy Halloweek!

Awakening to my inner witch is an ongoing process. Recently, I’ve realized, at a deeper level, how disconnected my generation is from nature, from natural practices and from the shamanic practices that are part of every world culture. Even though, significant inroads have been made, with a return to that wisdom and practice, still, what have we lost?

And, why?

Paranormal romances address those two questions often, and speak to it through a fictional, happily ever after story. I believe that is ONE huge reason why paranormal romance remains a significant trend.

There is a HUNGER these days, for everything paranormal. Despite advice to the contrary, advice supposedly from those in the know, that I’ve seen over the last ten years, at least, that the paranormal subgenres are on the way out. Well, Nada. It ain’t happening.

All I’ve seen is a steady growth curve. Plus, just look at the TV shows and the movie offerings, and not only during this season of the witch. The fact is, there is a TRUTH, or truths offered in paranormal romances that resonate with readers. It may be the myths behind the stories and the character archetypes that speak to our souls. It may be that most of us have sensed and experienced the supernatural world.

An encounter with a ghost. That intuitive hit that tells us to watch out. Even a Big Foot sighting. Okay, this subject goes far beyond what I can address here. But, you get the overall picture.

I wasn’t raised with the idea of having an inner witch. However, my journey began when I questioned why the heck were witches always portrayed with hideous warts and green ugly skin. They cackled nastily and hugged their ragged broomsticks while flying in front of the full moon. Something about that never made any sense to me.

The only beautiful witch I knew about growing up, until Samantha in the TV series, Bewitched, was Glinda, the good witch in the Wizard of Oz. And, I clung to her image like a lifeline. A good witch who was beautiful in appearance. She didn’t melt either.

The next significant WITCH happening in my life was the white witch, Sybil Leek. She was a cause celeb for her time, appearing on the TV talks shows, and I devoured her books, My Life In Astrology and Diary Of a Witch (1968), like I was starving.

I’ve had a lifelong love affair with witches, that is, as far as learning about them, their real herstory, and their craft, especially herbs. No, I never took the leap into becoming a practicing witch. It wasn’t my path. Yet, that has never stopped my inner witch from emerging.

Oh, if you want to know about one of the best witches around now, visit Dr. Evelyn Paglini at her site, Mystical Blend. Talk about a real witch with a capital R.

I consider *Halloween 2010* to be what I call a time of ~Witch Awakening~

Or, more and more, women are awakening to their inner witch. They are awakening to their POWER. Women, with the thinning of veil, are becoming aware of their true feminine nature. Their true power in the ways that have been lost to us for so many centuries.

This is ‘not’ the so-called power of women’s lib [nothing wrong with that]. This is a supernatural power that has been ruthlessly suppressed. This is a power of the soul rising to meet the Good of the Aquarian Age. This is women unshackling themselves from the horrors inflicted upon them all during our recorded history.

It’s time for herstory. All the ways that women have been and still are being brutalized is ending. No, this won’t be a pretty process. No, it won’t end tomorrow. Unless, we all get our intention aligned and make it so.

Romance has largely been the domain of women. Where else do we show up as powerfully as we do in our romance novels? Where else do we get to love, and be loved by the heroes that live inside our wildest, most impassioned dreams? And, he’s the lucky one.

Often, the paranormal subgenres offer stories where women are liberated in supernatural ways. They kick butt, use their psychic gifts and conjure magick to save those they love. Women save the world. They save galaxy, even the universe. As Women always have. And always will.
~~~~~~

Currently, I have two Halloween-theme books. One is a novella, BLACK CAT BEAUTY. The other one, THE TIGER’S MASQUERADE, is a short story in the anthology, Just Another ParaNormal Halloween.
~~~

Black Cat Beauty

Blurb: A private Halloween party in a gothic mansion hidden in the Hollywood Hills. Add one party crasher, Sable Kiki, a naughty black cat with a sexy wild human side.
Her covert assignment from her devious, always-cunning father: use her seductive wiles to find out the truth from Devon Zant, a movie star on the rise to super stardom.
Posing as the superhero actor, Devon Zant, D’Torr has arrived on Earth seeking revenge for the capture of his younger brother, and to assist in stopping a powerful enemy.
The leviathan warfleet of the Altirrux wants rule of all intergalactic trade routes to Earth, endangering the survival of D’Torr’s race, and all the inhabitants of the rare blue jewel, Earth.

Available from Liquid Silver Books ~ liquidsilverbooks.com/books/blackcatbeauty.htm ~
~~~

The Tiger’s Masquerade

Stacy wasn’t looking for a tiger-man to erotically and exotically fill her tank , then steal her heart. That is, until the Halloween ‘Call of the Wild Masquerade’ ball. But, what kind of tiger does she have by the tail?

Zyrru wasn’t looking for a human woman to un-tame his fiercest passions, and alter his royal life forever. After all, he’s only vacationing on Earth, and is almost engaged to The Princess. But her rosefire scent is irresistible.

JUST ANOTHER PARANORMAL HALLOWEEN available from MojoCastle Press ~ mojocastle.com/ParaHalloween.html ~
~~~~~~

Happy Thinning of Veils ~

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Happy Ever After - From A Different Angle

Writing is an odd occupation in my family of salt-of-the-earth Southerners. My people work hard for an honest wage, watch Southeastern Conference football on Saturdays in the fall (Roll Tide―or is that War Eagle?), and take casseroles to church fellowships. My people don’t do weird.

Then there’s me. I spend my days writing and editing at a university―a vague concept among my family members but respectable enough―and my nights writing novels. About wizards. And mermen. And vampires.

Bless their hearts, my family members want to understand. Case in point: my octogenarian mom moved in with me a couple of years ago, and I recently overheard a conversation between her and another 70-something relative. My mom’s end of the conversation went something like this:
―”Well, Suzanne has a book coming out.”
―”Well, it’s about vampires, I think.”
―”No, it isn’t a self-help book.”

Actually, a self-help book about vampires sounded like a really cool idea to me as I sat chortling in my study, eavesdropping. I wrote it down on a pink Post-it note. It’s still stuck on the side of a bookshelf.

So, what is this crazy thing called Paranormal Romance and why would anyone want to read or write it? Why is it so crazily popular right now?

Here are my highly unscientific theories:

―It lets us look at the human condition from a different angle. What if our jaw-droppingly sexy hunk of manhood hero never aged? What if he needed our heroine (literally) to live? What if he struggled at the loss of his humanity as he fought to contain the beast within him―a real beast? Every decision in our paranormal romantic relationship becomes amplified, has huge implications that could extend far beyond the scope of our couple and their families. Any dilemma or challenge or emotion our human couples might feel in a romance, our paranormal couples feel more intensely, on a larger stage.

―It lets us increase our taste for danger. There’s a good argument to be made that the most dangerous creature to walk the earth is man. But setting that aside, we all love a bad boy, right? Well, give that bad boy fangs, or make him a tortured soul who changes form every full moon and struggles to keep from putting your heroine on his dinner menu. We all think if we’re the right woman, we can change a man, right? Well, up the stakes and the danger for paranormal romance. Or what if he’s a nice, solid guy―real hero material―but our heroine has a paranormal flaw that could kill him if she doesn’t give him up? Big stakes, big emotion.

―It lets us test the mettle of the human spirit. Okay, that sounds really lofty. But most paranormal romance takes a human hero or heroine and thrusts him or her into a situation where only a noble spirit (and maybe a bottle of Jack Daniels) will see things through to the end. There are worlds to save, evil beings to conquer, the ultimate face-off of good and evil. In other words, the conflict is serious, and the stakes are big. (No vampire pun intended.) Yet at the heart of all the drama is the love between two people who, despite their vast differences, complete each other not only physically and emotionally, but on some metaphysical level. And since there’s often immortality at stake, it can literally mean love eternal.

Those are a few of the reasons I like to read paranormal romance. The reasons I like to write it are similar except I’ll add this:

―In addition to building deep, heroic characters, paranormal fiction gives me the opportunity to let my imagination soar. To create worlds, and whole systems of behavior that don’t have to conform to the laws of physics or reason. It lets me be weird and romantic, all at the same time, and find new ways of putting the idea out there that, at the end of the day, love is worth the struggle and the happily-ever-after even sweeter because of it.

A longtime New Orleans resident, Suzanne Johnson is an urban fantasy/paranormal romance author currently writing from Auburn, Alabama. Her new series with Tor Books begins with the release of ROYAL STREET in April 2012, followed by RIVER ROAD. She invites you to visit her daily blog at http://suzanne-johnson.blogspot.com/ and follow her on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/Suzanne_Johnson .

In the meantime, here's an inside peek to Royal Street.






ROYAL STREET

By Suzanne Johnson

As the junior wizard sentinel for New Orleans, Drusilla Jaco’s job involves a lot more potion-mixing and pixie-retrieval than sniffing out supernatural bad guys like rogue vampires and lethal were-creatures. Her boss and mentor, Gerald St. Simon, is the wizard tasked with protecting the city from anyone or anything that might slip over from the preternatural beyond. Then Hurricane Katrina hammers New Orleans’ fragile levees, unleashing more than just dangerous flood waters. While winds howled and Lake Pontchartrain surged, the borders between the modern city and the other world crumbled. Now, the Undead and the Restless are roaming the Big Easy, and a serial killer with ties to voodoo is murdering soldiers sent to help the city recover. Gerald St. Simon has gone missing, the wizards’ Elders have assigned a grenade-toting assassin as DJ’s new partner, and an undead pirate Jean Lafitte wants to make her walk his plank. The search for Gerry and the killer turns personal when DJ learns the hard way that loyalty requires sacrifice, allies come from the unlikeliest places, and duty mixed with love serves up one bitter gumbo. Coming April 2012 from Tor Books.

EXCERPT:

Friday, August 26, 2005
“Early forecasts project Tropical Storm Katrina to turn north
and land on the Florida Panhandle by Monday afternoon.”
―The Washington Post

A secluded Louisiana bayou. A sexy pirate. Seduction and deceit. My Friday afternoon had the makings of a great romantic adventure, at least in theory.


In practice, angry mosquitoes were using me for target practice, humidity had ruined any prayer of a good hair day, and the pirate in question―the infamous Jean Lafitte―was two-hundred years old, armed, and carrying a six-pack of Paradise condoms in assorted fruit flavors.


I wasn’t sure what unnerved me more—the fact that the historical undead had discovered erotic accessories, or that Lafitte felt the need to practice safe sex.


Nothing about the pirate looked safe. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had dark blue eyes and a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he watched me set two glasses and a bottle of dark rum on a rickety wooden table. A tanned, muscular chest peeked from his open-collared shirt, and shaggy dark hair framed a clean-shaven face. A jagged scar across his jaw reminded me the so-called gentleman pirate also had his ruthless side.


He’d arrived by way of a stolen boat at this isolated cabin near Delacroix, a half-hour outside New Orleans, to pursue two of the world’s most timeless pleasures: sex and money. I’d met him here to play the role of a gullible young wizard falling under the spell of the legendary pirate, at least for a while. Then I’d do my duty as deputy sentinel and send his swashbuckling hide back to the Beyond, where he could rub shoulders with other undead legends and preternatural creatures unfit for polite human company.


My hand shook as I poured the rum, sloshing a few drops of amber liquid over the side of the glass. I’d finally been given a serious assignment, and I needed it to go without a hitch.


Lafitte’s fingers brushed mine as he took the drink, sending an unexpected rush of energy up my arm. “Merci, Mademoiselle Jaco—or may I call you Drusilla?”


Actually, I’d prefer he didn’t call me anything. Despite his obvious hopes for the evening, this wasn’t a date. “Most people call me DJ.”


“Bah,” he said, taking a sip of rum. “Those are alphabet letters, not a name.”


From beneath the red sash that accented his waist, Lafitte pulled a modern semiautomatic handgun and set it on the table next to the rum bottle. I knew how he’d gotten it—he’d rolled the Tulane student that summoned him, lifted the kid’s wallet and iPod, rode the streetcar to Canal Street, and made a trade for the gun. Enterprising guy, Lafitte.


I pondered the odd spike of energy I’d gotten from his hand. Touching increases the emotional crap I absorb from people as an empath, but Lafitte was technically a dead guy. Still, I’d like to say if he touched me again, I’d demand double pay from the wizards’ Congress of Elders. Triple if it involved lips.


But who was I kidding? My bargaining position was nonexistent. My boss Gerry only sent me on this run because he had something else to do and knew Lafitte might respond to my questionable seduction skills.


I’d pulled my unruly blonde hair out of its usual ponytail for the occasion, loaded on some makeup to play up my teal eyes, and poured myself into a little black skirt, short enough to show off my legs while not offending Lafitte’s nineteenth-century sensibilities.


It must have worked, because the pirate was giving me that head-to-toe appraisal guys do on instinct, like they’re assessing a juicy slab of beef and deciding whether they want it rare, medium, or well-done.


“You really are lovely, Drusilla.” The timbre of Lafitte’s voice shivered down my spine, and I fought the urge to check out the biceps underneath that linen shirt.


Holy crap. This was just wrong. I should not be absorbing his lust.


The End

Thanks for stopping by and checking out Suzanne Johnson.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Growing Up Paranormal

Now that I think about it I was probably a weird kid. From a very young age I was fascinated with the paranormal, especially horror movies and books. I remember staying up to watch the late night scary movies hosted by various strange hosts like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. My favorite movies were the classic horror movies, the black and white Dracula and Wolfman, and the 1970’s Dracula movies starring Frank Langella.

My décor in my bedroom included glow-in-the-dark models of Dracula and Wolfman. Not really normal for a girl, right? My collection of books included Stephen King, Robert McCammon, Dean Koontz, collections of short ghost/horror stories and Ann Rice’s vamps and witches. I was into vampires long before they became trendy and sparkly. I still have a fascination with skulls and keep my macabre collection out all year. It’s Halloween all the time for me.

Growing up a horror fan, it would seem natural for me to write horror. Not exactly. I did write some short horror stories way back when I became serious about writing, but they were never published, and for good reason. Somehow I ended up writing romance, which is strange because I didn’t read much romance growing up. I think what changed my mind was Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander. It was a romance, but it wasn’t the usual formulaic romance. I decided to try writing romance and adding the elements I like—Celtic mythology, fantasy, paranormal, magic and otherworldly creatures like faeries (not the tiny, sparkly good kind), gods and goddesses, shifters and ancient vampires. All that time spent watching horror movies and reading horror stories was well worth it.

With my love of the paranormal, horror and Halloween, it was natural for me to be drawn to the ancient Celts, the founders of Samhain/Halloween and a people linked with the mystical realm. This is how I came to write Celtic historical romances with paranormal/fantasy elements.

In the following excerpt from Cat’s Curse, Samhain is a night of terror for my heroine because that night belonged to Cailleach. Cailleach, or Cat Anna, was known as a dark goddess; possibly she was a pre-Celtic earth goddess, for her aspects are similar to that of the Hindu goddess Kali (a goddess of creation and destruction). To the ancient Celts, Cailleach was a winter goddess, and a goddess of sovereignty. In my Dark Goddess trilogy, Cailleach is a winter goddess that awakens at Samhain. To gain her strength and shed her ugly ‘winter face,’ she has to make a sacrifice. In this excerpt she has chosen my heroine for her sacrifice and my hero has to save his love.



Cat's Curse, Book One: Dark Goddess Trilogy, Celtic historical romance/fantasy
Blurb: Cardea is cursed to live an eternity as a blood drinker. Aedan mac Gabrain, prince of Dal Riata, trusts no one after suffering a curse that keeps him from touching any females. Can two tortured souls find love while battling a dark goddess determined to destroy them? Available from Awe-Struck.

Excerpt from Cat’s Curse:
A harsh wind tore through the grove like a brief tempest scattering leaves and pine needles. The mighty oaks, with their thick branches, swayed in the unnatural wind, creaking eerily.

Cat Anna appeared before them. “Well, it seems you have been busy.” She noted the swell of Cardea’s stomach. “That child will never live to see the bright light of day,” she hissed.

Aedan pulled Cardea into his arms, holding her tight and giving Cat Anna a fierce look. He stared into Death's one eye, the other eye an ugly, gaping hole that could only be an entrance to the Underworld. He shivered at the frightening thought, avoiding that luring tunnel into darkness. Her hideous, blue-black skin resembled that of a long-dead corpse, making his stomach lurch.

“We shall see if you are still holding her that tightly at the end of this night,” she sneered, her one eye blazing. Uttering words of enchantment, Cat Anna waved her arms in the air.

Cardea's body shifted in Aedan's arms into something spongy. Looking down, he saw a grotesque blob of oozing flesh. He held her tight, remembering Cardea's words. The blob transformed into a huge serpent with gleaming, dripping fangs. Holding down his fear, he held on tight, knowing the serpent could not harm him. The serpent changed into a one-eyed demon covered in sharp thorns, which stabbed into his skin. He held on tight, knowing it to be an illusion and nothing more.

He gasped in shock when he looked down and saw his dead wife in his arms, staring up at him with sorrowful eyes. Badly decomposed, the smell of rotting flesh emanated from her, choking him with nausea. In desperation, he embraced his God for the first time since his wife’s death and uttered a quick prayer for inner strength, holding on tight.

Cardea transformed into terrifying demon after demon and still he held on tight, hanging on to his faith. As dawn neared, she changed into a searing piece of metal, burning his skin. She slipped from his grasp, but at the last second, he grabbed on, ignoring his burning flesh and flung her into the wellspring.

Fear hammered at his heart. What if she drowned? He paced before the well, clenching his fists, impatience and dread striking at his gut. It seemed to him too much time passed with her still in the well, his instincts warning him she would drown. He stared at the well, uneasiness choking him, wanting to go to her, but knowing he must wait.


Kelley Heckart
'Timeless tales of romance, conflict & magic'
http://www.kelleyheckart.com/
http://kelleysrealm.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/CelticChick
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kelley-Heckart/111838455604
My book page at Awe-Struck
http://www.king-cart.com/Awe-Struck/category=Kelley+Heckart/exact_match=exact
My author page on amazon.com:
http://www.amazon.com/Kelley-Heckart/e/B002BMOQ3C/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Thursday, October 21, 2010

PUMPINNAPPER - Regency Halloween Comedy and CONTEST

Halloween is coming!

Let me tell you a tale of a love triangle: man, woman and goose. Join the fun as Henry the man and Henry the goose spar over heroine Emily's affections while they try to capture the foul (or is it fowl?) pumpkin thieves.

BLURB:
Pumpkin thieves, a youthful love rekindled and a jealous goose. Oh my!

Last night someone tried to steal the widowed Mrs. Emily Metcalfe's pumpkins. She's certain the culprit is her old childhood nemesis and the secret love of her youth, Henry, nicknamed Hank, whom she hasn't seen in ten years.

Henry, Baron Grey, who's never forgotten the girl he loved but couldn't pursue so long ago, decides to catch Emily's would-be thief. Even after she reveals his childhood nickname--the one he would rather forget. And even after her jealous pet goose bites him in an embarrassing place.

Oh, the things a man does for love.

EXCERPT:
"Emily, even with Henry, formidable as he is--" Hank glared at the goose. The goose glared back "--you need protection. I will send over some footmen to guard the place."

"No. Turnip Cottage belongs to Charlotte's husband. What will the townspeople think, with Lord Grey's servants about my house?"

Her refusal increased his fury. The sight of her hand on that damned goose's head didn't improve his mood, either. He balled his fists as his patience thinned and something else thickened. "I'll find you a guard dog. You must have some protection out here all alone."

"But I have Henry." She patted the goose's head and the bird snuggled into her hand. Again.

Heat flooded Hank, part desire for Emily's touch, and part desire to murder that damned goose, who was where he wanted to be. His insides groaned. "Very well, then, you leave me no choice. I will help you catch the culprits."

"But--"

He changed his voice to the voice that either melted a woman or earned him a slap in the face. "Who knows, mayhap we would enjoy ourselves as I lie in wait with you." I would love to lie with you.

Her eyes widened. Had she understood the innuendo?

"I cannot stay alone with you, and you know it," she said, her voice severe.

"You are a widow in your own home and no one will see. I will make sure of it."

"No." She marched back into her cottage and slammed the door. Henry smirked and waddled away.

Hank grinned. He would be back, whether she liked it or not.

CONTEST: Chance to win a PDF copy of PUMPKINNAPPER! Just leave your name and email in my address book on my website, http://www.lindabanche.com I'm starting a newsletter and will use these names for the mailing list. Contest ends October 25.

Thank you all,
Linda
Linda Banche
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!
http://www.lindabanche.com

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Endearments--Movie Style

I had no idea where this post was going, but somehow I ended up with a few quotes from movies—terms of endearment, phrases lovers say to each other, ways they speak to each other depending on the characters. I chose four movies I enjoyed, because each had actors and actresses I admired for their talent and diversity. Some of these terms of endearments may not be quite orthodox, but humans have countless diverse ways of expressing interest and even love.


TERMS OF ENDEARMENT-1983 movie

Aurora and Emma are mother and daughter who march to different drummers. Beginning with Emma's marriage, Aurora shows how difficult and loving she can be. The movie covers several years of their lives as each finds different reasons to go on living and find joy. Aurora's interludes with Garrett Breedlove, retired astronaut and next door neighbor are quite striking. In the end, different people show their love in very different ways.

Aurora Greenway-Shirley McLaine
Emma Horton-Debra Winger
Garrett Breedlove-Jack Nicholson
Tommy Horton-Troy Bishop

[Lying in the surf after being thrown from the car.]
Garrett Breedlove: If you wanted to get me on my back, all you had to do was ask me.
******
Garrett Breedlove: I like the lights on.
Aurora Greenway: Then go home and turn them on.
******
Aurora Greenway: Do you have any reaction at all to my telling you I love you?
Garrett Breedlove: I was just inches from a clean getaway.
******
Aurora Greenway: Don't worship me until I've earned it.
******
Garrett Breedlove: Wind in the hair! Lead in the pencil!
******
Garrett Breedlove: [on their first date] Aurora...
Aurora Greenway: Yes?
Garrett Breedlove: You're not *fun*, by any chance, are you?
Aurora Greenway: I don't really think we should think about that right now.
[pause]
Aurora Greenway: Impatient boys sometimes miss dessert!
******
Emma Horton: Momma, that's the first time I stopped hugging first. I like that.
******
MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING

Toula Portokalos: Why?... Why do you love me?
Ian Miller: Because I came alive when I met you.
******
Ian Miller: I remember you.
Toula Portokalos: Look, I was going through a phase. I was Frump Girl.
Ian Miller: I don't remember Frump Girl, but I remember you.
******







FAILURE TO LAUNCH

Tripp: Do you have real feelings?
Paula: Of course I have real feelings!
Tripp: For what?
Paula: For you! And believe me I did not want that because I had a good life before you. Well, not good... but... it was okay. Well... it was empty actually, but at least I was blissfully unaware of how miserable I was. Whereas now... because of you... I am acutely aware of how completely and totally unhappy I am. Thank you for that.

[first lines]
Melissa: I just feel really close to you.
Tripp: You are really close to me.
******


Melissa: So, where do you see us going?
Tripp: Well, tonight, I see us going back to my place.
******
Tripp: So what do we do now?
Paula: Actually, it's... it's quite simple. You just have to decide. Do you want to spend the rest of your life having fun? Or do you want to spend it with me?
Tripp: Hmm...
Paula: Shut up! Not everything you say is perfect.
Tripp: We can have a little bit of fun, can't we? Huh?

TIN CUP

Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy: When was the last time you took a risk?
Dr. Molly Griswold: Well, I'm with you, Roy. I'm with you
******
Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy: It won't always be like this, you know.
Dr. Molly Griswold: What?
Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy: With me surrounded by all these guys, snoring... stripper ex-girlfriend laying across from us... caddy sleeping next to her. It won't always be like this.
Dr. Molly Griswold: Yes, it will.
******
Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy: Do you find me sexy?
Dr. Molly Griswold: You have your moments.
Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy: Well, you let me know which moments are my moments and I'll try and duplicate 'em.


Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com/
http://www.celiayeary.com/
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