from Diablo Canyon

The cover is new. It represents one couple, who continue through the book, first as hero and heroine and then as secondary characters in the next two romances.

 

Diablo Canyon, which began with a dream, became one novella and then three, has been one of my more interesting writing experiences. Its writing brought together fantasy, metaphysics, science, ranch life, and the very human emotion of falling in love. 

When writing a fantasy, the one rule is the book must stay true to the world it created but otherwise-- anything goes. Because in Diablo Canyon, spirit guides and even monsters got their own points of view, it may have led to some reader confusion, which might be more difficult for readers not familiar with paranormal thinking.   The spirit guides take on a point of views in the three stories, as they struggle with fulfilling their goals. They operate (sometimes with frustration) through the small, still voice of wisdom. Only a rare human can directly see or talk to them. 

I believe I have a muse (what I call him) but can't say I've heard him arguing with anybody but me-- and a lot of what I believe to be his inspiration is through dreams, coincidences, or my subconscious (and I can pay attention or not). Having this inner voice doesn't block me from seeing the physical reality around me-- nor does he order me to do things. 

My muse or someone like him has been with me all my life. As a small child, I saw him as a playmate. My talking about what the two of us did and that he had a name worried my parents and eventually I quit seeing him. I don't think he left... although might we have different ones at different points in our lives? Regarding this, I don't know-- except in Diablo Canyon, where it was my choice-- the guide job is a lifetime commitment-- and sometimes a frustrating one.

Diablo Canyon involves the paranormal, ranch life, Montana, some unscrupulous humans, and oh yeah, a different love story for each of the three parts (or novellas depending on how someone bought them)-- the last with a rather unusual heroine.  

This is the only story/stories my partner and I published with an option. (When Fates Conspire, The Dark of the Moon, and Storm in the Canyon are offered as novellas without the spice (sensual but all descriptions stop there). Diablo Canyon, with all three parts, has the kind of heat readers can expect in my books-- ♥♥♥♥). This snippet is from the second part-- The Dark of the Moon.

     “What are you two doing here?” Racine asked-- not that she wasn’t grateful.

     “Curiosity,” Remus responded and then looked toward the horseman who had now stopped and was watching them.

     “Who are you?” Pace asked his gaze moving from one to the other. 

    Racine didn't like that one bit. It was disturbing. He saw them and believed he could talk to them. That was not how it was supposed to be. 

     “The bigger question,” Justus said, “is who are you that you see us?”

     “And can talk to us?” Racine added, trying not to sound annoyed and knowing she probably failed. 

     “Well, you aren’t exactly keeping yourselves secret, now are you?” Pace hooked his knee over the horn of the saddle and lit a cigarette. “What are your names?”

     They told him. “Generally we are unseen,” Remus added with a bemused expression.  “It’s not often we run across a human who is aware of the third dimension.”

     Pace smoked. “I didn’t ask for it.” 

     “Heritage then?”   

     He nodded. “It can be inconvenient.”  

     “Get you institutionalized if you aren’t careful,” Justus agreed with a laugh. 

     “So I’ve been told. You already know who I am. Now I want to know why you are here. Not on Aganes’ side, that much is obvious.”   

     “You know the demon's name?” Justus now sounded more surprised than disturbed.   

     “I’ve met up with him before in my… uh work.” 

     “Cole hired you for the job,” Remus said. “We heard that much. He didn’t know all about you though did he? Not all about you.” 

     Pace shrugged. “He could have. He and I have not actually met. He hired me through the investigative agency where I work. Dirk Langston runs it. The thing is, Cole wouldn’t have hired our agency if he hadn’t wanted something more than the usual.” 

     “Why would Cole want that that?”   

     “At the moment, I can only guess,” he said with a smile.  

     “How much does Myra know?” Racine asked, feeling increasingly troubled by this whole conversation. Humans should only be able to see spirits when they died. Pace seemed very much alive. Was he a warlock or sorcerer. 

     “Neither,” he said, as if he’d heard the question she knew she hadn’t voiced. 

     “Your buddy was right. I inherited it. It came down through the men in my family. When I was small, my father taught me not to fear what I was seeing but then added don’t let others know—at least not until you can trust them.” He drew deeply on the cigarette.

     “So it was a gift,” Remus suggested.

     Pace’s laugh held no humor. “It is what it is-- as I have observed a lot with life. The question I have is what are the two of you doing here? I’ve seen the little beauty there around.” He gestured toward Racine. “You two are new.”

     “How much do you really know of the other side?” Remus asked.

     “No more than I have to..."

 

Excerpt from 'Lands of Fire' due out November 5th

My Arizona historical series grew from its first book, Arizona Sunset. I knew with it that I had a second with Tucson Moon but had no idea there would end up being seven-- if that's all there will be. Although they have continuing secondary characters (who might have been hero or heroine in earlier or future books), each book stands alone.  

Echoes from the Past introduced three brothers. The youngest of these gets his own romance November 5th in Lands of Fire-- Book 6 Arizona Historicals: The Taggerts. This is not just a love story of two people but also of the Southwest and its beautiful desert. 

The following is a snippet, with one more edit still due; so this might change some by the time it comes out.

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    “You have a gift with horses, I hear,” she said trying to find something to say that didn’t leave her feeling like a fool. That wasn’t it.

    “Maybe,” he said. He was looking down at her. Being so close to him made her even more aware of how very tall he was. She’d never been near a man that height. It was a bit intimidating.

    “You think you can teach me to ride?” That was another dumb comment. She was furious with herself for having lost her wits.

    “If you want.”

    “I should want.” Again, she was annoyed at what she was saying. Of course, how could she instead say he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, and would he pose for a painting?

    “Ma’am, the horse will react to what you feel.”

    “Oh, you mean if I don’t want to ride him, he will sense it?”

    He nodded. “They feel you. You need to feel him too. Then it will work.”

    “How do I do that?”

    “Come.” He turned and led her back down to the corral. Jethro had come to the rails as soon as he saw him. Jesse reached out and stroked his forehead. Or she guessed they called it that.

    Jesse turned back to her. “Put out your hand.”

    “He won’t bite me?”

His smile softened as he shook his head. She didn’t know why she knew she could trust him, but she did. She held out her hand and let the soft nose of the horse sniff of it.

    “Good,” Jesse said. “Now pet him gently.”

    She liked the feel of the horse’s face. He seemed not to mind her touch. “I thought he might be as afraid of me as I am of him.”

    “That’s why you let him sniff of you. He knows you don’t mean bad by him.”

    “They can tell?”

    “More than most humans.”

    She looked up at him. His smile was a little crooked, faint as before, but it seemed warm. He liked being with the horse. She felt their joined energy. It was beautiful.

    “I might as well tell you now, ma’am,” he said.

She stopped petting Jethro. “What?”

    “I am dumb. You will figure it out sooner or later. I do better with horses than people.”

    “But you can talk.”

    “Stupid.”

    She remembered then what Holly had told her. ‘Jesse is... slow in how he thinks.’ So, he saw that as stupid. “You don’t seem stupid to me,” she said.

    “Not yet, but I will.”

    “Why?” She could not believe any of this, not after seeing him with the horse, and then looking up into his eyes. They were intelligent and seemed to speak without words.

    “I can’t reason, lady, not like you.” He shut his mouth, and she saw the muscle jump in his cheek. He was clenching his jaw. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted to say what he had. Why had he?”

    He smiled then. “Because we will be working together on the... horse.”

    “You read minds?” She smiled then. Feeling finally relaxed, she reached out again to pat Jethro’s nose.

    “Sometimes.”

And then it gets complicated

 David Bannister is known for being slick and good at his work as an investigative agent. He's come to Portland, gotten undercover, ended up very uncovered and begins to have his life threatened. What's going on? This piece is from Bannister's Way-- contemporary adventure romance set in Oregon with some secondary characters from an earlier romance. Did I mention he has an ex-wife? *s*

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     On one of the dark narrow lanes, he became aware of a car coming up fast behind him. He looked in the mirror, trying to assess the make of the vehicle, but its headlights were on bright and nearly blinded him. Veering to the right, he angled as far as possible to the edge of the road, leaving more than adequate room for the vehicle to pass. Too late he realized it had no intention of passing.   With the powerful vehicle coming straight for the rear of his motorbike, he swerved sharply and felt his front wheel leave the edge of the road. For a moment he thought he had control, and then the bumper of the larger vehicle tapped his rear fender, and all control was gone.

     His only thought, as the bike went over, was to roll off the pavement and away from the bike. If he landed on the roadway, whoever had hit him could too easily back and finish the job. Landing hard on one shoulder, he pitched into a somersault that left him winded and flat on his back.

     He levered himself up, looking for the car. All he saw were disappearing rear lights. His motorcycle was lying at a sad angle on the low bank of the road.

Son of a bitch, he thought, still feeling the shock of the fall and scarcely able to believe it had happened. Was it a careless driver or had someone just tried to kill him? Shakily he got to his feet and walked to his bike. With the rear fender pushed into the wheel and broken spokes, he wasn't going to be riding it anyplace soon.

     Rubbing his arm, he debated if he had pulled a ligament or something more serious. His shoulder hurt and reaching up, he found a bleeding abrasion where the shirt had ripped. Still shaking, he took longer than usual to unfasten his helmet and secure it to the damaged bike. That helmet had probably saved his life or at the very least stood between him and another ugly head injury.

     Forests on all sides of him, the nearest house at least a block away. He wished his role here hadn’t proscribed no cell phone and tried to think how far back Bonie's house might be, but he couldn't even remember the roads he'd taken down the hill, let alone had any hope of making it back up them.

     When he began to walk, he discovered he'd twisted his left ankle. Limping, he smiled grimly at his realization that this was the perfect ending to an already tough day--painfully walking in the dark, on a road he didn't know, heading for no place. The story of his life. What kind of a life was that?