3 Blog Visit Sunday

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Saturday's Chapter - Wait Until Moonlight - Teri Thackston

Chapter One
June, 1774

“There are seven ladies waiting tonight, my lord.” Arthur stood in the library doorway. “Your mother asks that you join them in the ballroom.”

“Only seven?” Upper lip curling in displeasure, Nicholas Pierce poured himself a drink. “Mother is slipping. Last week there were twelve.”

Arthur did not respond. Nicholas didn’t expect him to. The aged butler was well schooled in servile comportment and knew when to keep his mouth shut.
But seven more women?

“Tell my mother I will be down when I’m drunk enough to tolerate her guests.” Raising his glass, Nicholas tossed a generous measure of whiskey to the back of his throat and swallowed without tasting it.

“Yes, sir.” The elderly butler closed the door.

Silence enshrouded Nicholas. But instead of peace, he felt the pall of guilt. He was hiding, shirking his responsibility as lord of the manor, Earl of Beaumarith, last in direct bloodline to the title. Duty required that he take a wife at the ripe age of twenty-seven and produce an heir.
His gaze touched his father’s chair standing empty near the stone fireplace and his jaw tightened. “Duty be damned.”
Scents of azalea and honeysuckle drifted into the library though the open terrace doors behind him, mingling with hints of leather and the lingering aroma of his father’s tobacco. Moonlight spilled through tall, paned windows to touch soaring book cabinets. But Nicholas took no pleasure in the comforting surroundings.

Refilling his glass, he faced the fireplace. Embers bored caves in a massive log and cast a glow across the large portrait that hung over the mantle. The painting was of Nicholas and his father, the late Earl of Beaumarith, Benoic Pierce. Firelight merged with moonlight to flush the images in ocher, highlighting the anger of one and grizzling the vibrancy of the other.

“Father.” Nicholas gazed into the eyes of his sire. “Must love hurt so?”

It was no fault of his. He’d been ready to wed, had treasured the illusion of a single, perfect love. Now, six months after Sara’s rejection, he still considered the fairer sex with the suspicion of one betrayed. If a woman wanted a man for his wealth, she should have the courage to tell him so from the start. Honesty, he could respect. Deception, he would not abide.

Feminine laughter drifted through the open terrace doors. Facing the night, Nicholas lifted his glass to salute the moon. “To the only lady a man can trust,” he said.

“Feminine trustworthiness is not all it is professed to be?”

Pausing with the rim of the glass against his lower lip, Nicholas closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Fragrances of smoked peat and fermented barley filled his head, dulling his sense of outrage at this particular feminine intrusion.

Exhaling, he tilted the glass and slowly drank all the whiskey before lowering his arm and turning to face the newcomer. Satin folds of her white gown clinging to her exquisite body, Saffira slouched against his father’s chair, toying with a lock of her loose black hair. Her brilliant blue eyes sparkled like the jewel from which she had taken her name, and her lips, full and red, parted in seductive invitation.
Nicholas resisted with ease. “I believe young ladies are taught to knock before entering a gentleman’s study.”

Saffira painted lips curled at the corners. “I’ve heard that.”

Nicholas turned away as she uncoiled her body and moved forward.

“I was talking to Sir Lunsford a few moments ago,” she said. “He certainly seemed to enjoy my demonstration of sorcery tonight.”

“It’s that dress.” He stared at the night beyond the terrace. “Lunsford always did appreciate a flash of flesh.”

She stepped close to him. “Jealous?”

Nicholas jerked free of the suffocating warmth of her body. “Hardly!”

The dim firelight shimmered, as if the very air had been set astir. She laughed and darted in front of him.

“Really, Nicky, I shan’t bite you!” She touched his arm. “I wish only to give you that which a wife can give a husband. Marry me. Let us make true magic together.”

He stared at her hand where it lay upon his arm. Her fingers were long and white, unadorned, the nails colored with some pale, pearlescent paint that caught the firelight. That those digits could work magic of a sort, he did not doubt. Feminine magic. Carnal magic.
Raising his eyes to meet hers, he spoke quietly. “You would give me your lips?”

Her smile turned coy. “Willingly.”

“Your touch?”

“Yes.”

“Your alabaster body?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“And what of your heart, Saffira? What of mine?”

She laughed again, but the sound rang hollow in the night. “Oh, Nicky. It isn’t your heart that I’m after.”

“Perhaps ‘tis my heart I truly wish to give.” Weariness crawled through him. “And to gain a heart in return.”

A harsh change came over her features, as if the very Devil had taken a hand in shaping them. “You speak of hearts as if you possess one, Nicky. But you’re as heartless as that pitiful creature of darkness that roams the woods. Tell me…is it you?”

“You’ve heard the dark tales and yet you brave me in my den? You think much of your own powers, Saffira.”

“You would be wise to think much of them yourself.”

He set his empty glass forcefully on a nearby table. “And you would be wise to leave me in peace.”

“You are not at peace, my lord. You haven’t been since the night you learned the truth about your precious Sara.”

His hands balled into fists. “Do not speak her name.”

“Because my lips are not worthy of forming it? Or because its very sound grates upon your soul?”

Nicholas turned to the gallery door. Her latter statement was the true one. The pain that came from hearing that once-loved name gnawed at him like a rabid beast. “If you will not leave me, I shall seek my peace elsewhere.”

Saffira moved between him and the door. “At least consider my proposal.”

“I’m not interested.”

She touched his chest. “Don’t you see—”

“Don’t you see?” He thrust her hand away. “I will not make a business arrangement—or whatever you have in mind—at the marriage altar!”
Her face darkened. From beyond the terrace, he heard a sound like distant cannon fire.

Her voice dropped to a lower register. “And for what reason will you marry?”

He thought of his parents’ cold union, of Sara’s betrayal, and he answered Saffira with the truth. “For love.”

“Have you learned nothing from your parents, Nicky? Love is a myth! It is for commoners and mortals.”

“Mortal is all that I am, Saffira.”

Her gaze darted toward the portrait above the fireplace. “But an uncommon mortal. I know what runs through your veins. ‘Tis the blood of the Olde Ones. There is no other man alive with your bloodline. Join it to mine.”

Before he could move, she embraced him, pressing her wet lips to his. The taste of her was bitter and sticky-warm as blood, and her silken arms clamped around him like the sinewy coils of a reptile.

Stomach turning, he thrust her away once more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, trying to remove the taste of her. “But I do know that I do not wish to be with you. Not ever!”

The air thrummed once more with that distant rumble.

“Do not think to cast me aside, Lord Pierce. I will not allow it!”

He tried to ignore the bile settling in his gut. “It is not for you to allow or disallow.”

“You underestimate me. That kiss, a simple chant…my spell will sway you.” She lifted one dark eyebrow. “And of course you wish to protect the village children from your mother and her investors. Accept my proposal and I will see that they are safe.”

Guilt slammed him. The children…he had been so consumed by grief that he’d neglected his father’s concerns about what went on in the coal mines. But this so-called sorceress had nothing to do with that.

“You take yourself too seriously, Saffira,” he said. “That kiss meant nothing and illusions will gain you no ground. Take your parlor tricks back to my mother’s party where they may be appreciated. Seek out Sir Lunsford if you want a man’s company.”

“Scoff ye not at old ways,” she warned. “Lest ye feel the wrath of old gods.”

Wind blasted through the terrace doorway, hot and dry, scattering the embers in the fireplace. A glowing brand flew upward then spiraled down to the leather seat of the late earl’s chair. The smell of burning hide scorched the air.

“As one who is dead, yet warm of flesh, walk ye within these walls.” Saffira extended her arms out to each side, palms up, glaring at Nicholas as she chanted. “Unseen. Unheard. Untouched. As on the breath of the wind, those round ye shall part as ye pass among them. Not by word spoken, set in ink or lead shall ye be known.”

Fine hairs rose on the back of Nicholas’ neck. Scowling, he shook off the sensation. “You don’t amuse me, Saffira.”

“As currents in a river, other lives round ye shall flow.”

Wind gusted in off the terrace, whipping up the embers in the fireplace once more. Lightning cracked.

Striding to the terrace doors, Nicholas pressed them shut. “Woman, if you must spout spells, at least make them rhyme!”

Thunder jostled the house so violently that books bounced on the shelves and furniture danced across the floor. A vase of roses teetered on a stand near the terrace doors. Nicholas lunged for it, catching the expensive crystal piece inches above the floor. Rose petals flew everywhere.

“Freedom lies in the light of the full moon and true love’s embrace.” Her voice rose and fell now, monotone abandoned for fury. “Only through consummation and the pledge eternal, beneath Diana’s full gaze, shall ye be freed. Until the pledge be made, I condemn ye to wander evermore within this living tomb!”

A brilliant, sizzling blaze filled the room. Throwing his free arm across his eyes, Nicholas staggered back. The heel of one boot, treading upon the silky petals of the fallen roses, slipped. Falling, he struck the back of his head on the door frame. The vase flew from his grip. As it shattered, the intensity of the storm centered inside his head, exploding with light and thunder.

Then, suddenly, all was silent.

Gingerly, Nicholas touched the lump on his head. Although it was tender, he felt no blood. Glancing around, he saw that he was alone.

“Witch,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. She’d nearly blinded him with that smoke pellet of hers. The scent of it still lingered in the air. And the vase…

He looked down at the shattered crystal. There would be hell to pay when his mother saw that!

The door leading to the gallery opened. Seeing the elderly butler, Nicholas gestured toward the fragments on the floor. “Get one of the maids to sweep this up.”

Arthur approached slowly, staring at the broken vase. He pushed at the larger pieces with the toe of one shoe, then raised his head and looked around. “Lord Pierce?”

Nicholas scowled. “Have you gone deaf, man? I said call someone to sweep up that mess!”

But Arthur stepped over the shards of crystal and crossed the library to the terrace doors. Beyond him, Nicholas saw that the night sky was clear. His scowl deepened. The thunder and lightning…what had happened to the storm?

Arthur stepped onto the terrace. “My lord, are you there?”

“I’m here, you fool.” Nicholas moved into the doorway. “Have you gone blind as well as deaf?”

Returning to the library, Arthur passed within inches of Nicholas. Angry, Nicholas snatched at the other man’s sleeve and, impossibly, missed.

“Well? Where is he?” Lady Charlotte Pierce appeared in the gallery doorway. “The ladies are growing impatient.”

Arthur stepped back over the broken vase. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the master must have gone down by way of the terrace.”

“Hang the ladies, Mother. I told you I would take no part in your matchmaking.” Nicholas strode toward her, boot heels ringing against the floor. “And as for children working in the mines—”

“To the stables, do you think?” She advanced farther into the room. Her full skirts shimmered as silver gray as her hair, not the mourning black of a recent widow. “To ride that beast of his?”

“It is possible, my lady. I shall send Ralf to see if Calon Crau is in the stable.”

Lady Pierce passed so close to Nicholas that he smelled her perfume. Still, she seemed oblivious to his presence. A chill began to creep over him.
“Tell Ralf to go quietly,” Lady Pierce said to Arthur. “If Nicholas has slipped away, I do not wish the fact made public.”

She gestured toward the broken vase and trampled flowers. “He probably broke that vase on purpose. He’s angry with me for arranging this party so soon after Benoic’s death.” Her voice fell to a murmur. “And for other things.”

Arthur, wisely, said nothing. Lady Pierce turned back toward the gallery door. Nicholas placed himself in her path, confident that she must walk directly into him. But as she drew closer, the air before him seemed to gain weight, pressing against him until he could not help stumbling backward. His treacherous legs did not stop until he backed up against the stone wall of the fireplace.

His mother paused beside the big leather chair. “Is this a burn?”

Joining her, Arthur looked at the scorched seat. “I believe so, my lady.”

Her upper lip curled in distaste. “Destroy the chair. ‘Tis an eyesore. With Benoic gone, there is no need for me to tolerate its presence.”

“Yes, Lady Pierce.”

With a rustle of satin, she was gone. Arthur followed more slowly, his gaze wandering once more around the room, whispering past Nicholas.

In that instant Nicholas knew that he stood unseen. The door closed behind Arthur. At the vibration of its closing, the last log fell in the fireplace. In the crackle of its fall, Nicholas heard a gentle echo of husky feminine laughter.

How She Does It - Teri Thackston

We all know there are six elements in writing fiction and often fact. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth which for me is the plot. What's your take on this?

I agree completely. The first five elements are usually the fun part for me when it comes to writing a new story, with “How” being where the real work begins. All six elements are essential to a well-written and fully fleshed-out story.

1. How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific process?

Either my hero or heroine usually comes to me almost spontaneously – a gift from God. This character will have a specific personality and primary goal; not absolutely complete, but close enough to inspire his or her story needs. Then comes the hard part: creating the love interest character along with his or her personality and primary goal. That can take days of considering characters one after another until I find a fit – kind of like setting up blind dates for my characters!
Fortunately, for my newest paranormal romance, Moonrise, both the hero and heroine sprang to my mind together. They were waltzing together in the moonlit ballroom of a Welsh castle, and the hero disappeared every time they passed from the moonlight into shadow. It was an eerie but romantic scene that sparked the entire book very quickly.

2. Do your characters come before the plot? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?

The initial plot of a book usually comes from the first character, and I plot the major scenes from that character’s goals. Of course, not every character cooperates with the plots I lay down, so I do a lot of tweaking of the plot throughout my writing process. By the end of the second or third draft of the manuscript, I usually have a pretty detailed written plot – down to the time of day and the weather for each scene. I have to write down those details or I’ll forget them!
For Moonrise, the plot of a Welsh Earl cursed to live unseen and unheard, trapped within his own castle for more than two hundred years, came to me fairly quickly. But it still took a while to pick his perfect heroine – a contemporary American – and to figure out how she could free him from the curse.

3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?

I know the general ending – happily ever after! But the specifics are often a mystery until the second or third draft are complete.

4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?

Both, actually. I wrote a western romance once that took place on the Texas farm my family owned for nearly one hundred years. So I had the lay of the land in my head for that one. But I’ve never been to Wales, so for Moonrise, I had to design a castle. I studied different castles for months before I came up with my own version of a thirteenth-century keep that was modified over hundreds of years to become the manor house I called Beaumarith. Then I had to find out what kinds of plants grew in southern Wales, what a small Welsh train station looked like, what the weather is like in June (colder than Texas!). There were a lot of details to discover, and I found the research to be a lot of fun.

5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?

The Internet has made research so much easier, but books are still a key research source for me. I even have a set of 55-year old Collier’s Encyclopedia’s that I refer to occasionally. But visiting a location can also be helpful. As I said, I’ve never been to Wales, so the Internet was invaluable with all the photographs and descriptive blogs that are available there.

6. Are you a draft writer or do you revise as you go along and why?

Big time draft writer. I do some revisions as I go along, but usually only a couple of scenes back before going forward again. I don’t like to get bogged down in a scene by reviewing it over and over again in a short period of time…it loses its freshness. So I like to go through the book, focusing on specific aspects for each draft, i.e., one draft might focus on dialogue while another might focus on background elements. Then I usually put the book aside for a week or longer before I go at it again.

Thanks so much for inviting me to guest on your Eclectic Writer blog. I really appreciate the opportunity to ‘meet’ potential new readers. They can find me at www.terithackston.com or on Facebook and Twitter! And Wait Until Moonrise is available at http://tinyurl.com/75lcdm6

Thursday - Who I'm Reading - Renee Simons

I've been reading a lot of books. Always have and always will. I'm are-reader and some books I've read many times. Even though I know the story when I re-read I'm also learning how to hone my craft. Had a hard time this week deciding whose books I'd feature here but today Renee Simons gets the nod. Renee writes romantic suspense and they're all contemporary. I've read four of her books. One isn't available on Kindle yet, but when it is I'll buy and read again. What do I learn from reading someone who was a critique partner until she moved?

Renee has heros that I would like to know in real life. They are facing problems that could destroy their lives or the lives of people they love. Are her heros the only thing I see when I read her books? Renee's heroines always match her heros in strength and character. This is something I admire. Having heros and heroines as equals is a plus when reading her books. The villains aren't small potatoes either. They may be bad but they're also human. This takes a skill and pulls a person from page to page.

So if you like romantic suspense try Eye of the Storm, Safe Haven and Dearest Enemy. I enjoyed them.

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Eileen Charbonneau - Elements of the Novel

Once again I'm reading the Elements of the Novel written by Eileen Charbonneau. This chapter talks about Structure. "Every novel, even the most experimental, has a structure." This is something we can see every time we read a book or hear a story. So what is the structure. Beginning, Middle and Ending.

Sounds simple and it is unless you're the kind of person who likes to complicate matters. The Beginning is where the characters, their goals and motives are set forth. As Eileen says. "The beginning is a promise." I know there have been times while judging contests that I've been fooled and one kind of story I thought I was reading turned into another kind. A contemporary romance suddenly becomes a paranormal or something else entirely. So with the beginning remember what you're trying to do. Don't prolong the beginning. Generations ago writers wrote long books and they had more room for their beginnings. Things happen faster now. So make sure you have all the points plus showing the setting and the kind of story you're writing in those first few chapters.

The middle is a time of complications but not ones that go all over the place. The middle should be a series of escalating events leading to the ending. Here's the place where the characters, setting and plot are explored. Here's what Eileen says about the Middle. "To deepen and expand your story without losing its pace." So here you must make sure each scene leads to the next, and making sure you don't have repeated scenes, characters with the same purpose or scenes that slow the pace.

Now comes the End. Eileen's advice. "To resolve and satisfy while seeming inevitable." May seem hard but I know I've read books where the ending didn't satisfy me or where it semed forced. Another thing is loose ends need to be resolved. Just recently I was reaching the of my current work in purpose and I found I'd left an strand waving in the air and not tied down. I needed to make sure this end was woven into the other parts of the ending and was logical.

Being a draft writer, I find I spend a lot of time honing the beginning or my stories and as much on the end. Sometimes finding that proper last sentence is hard, especially if you're dealing with a character who is part of a series. You want the reader to reach for the next book or if they've found your series in the middle to want to go back to the beginning.

Tuesday's Inspiration - John Hersey - Reasons To Write

Valid and non-valid reasons for writing a novel.
Here are the good reasons - A search for understanding. Not of oneself but that does figure in, but a desire to understand what and why something is happening. Mr. Hersey mentions War and Peace a book I've read more than once. This seeking to understand the influence of people on events and events on people can drive a writer. I think sometimes this is what drives me even when I'm writing of worlds invented for a story. What about you?

A desire to communicate. Writers often exist in a solitary world but they have things they are driven to say. Romance writers want to talk about happily ever after, mystery writers of good overcoming evil. There are any number of things a writer wants to communicate. What's your desire to tell other people?

Anger. Now this can work two ways. A great novel can be based on a writer's anger about some subject or some event impacting their world. But if the anger is done didactly the only accomplishment is to turn the reader off. Anger filtered through humor or with a light hand succeeds more than a preachy time.

So these three points are reasons that might draw the reader into the writer's world. The reader may be seeking escape or knowledge but they will read. What about the negative sort of reasons.

Catharsis. Pouring ones inner insecurities may turn a reader off. Especially if the unconscious emerges in long strands of thought and rambling moments.

Money If this is the sole purpose of writing a story it will fall flat.

So why do you write. I'd like to think what I'm trying to do involves the first three. How about you?

4 June Week Behind and Week Ahead

What interested me last week was tieing up loose ends in a story I'm writing. The first loose end really wasn't one but an end that led to a plot development that I didn't realize had a meaning. Does this ever happen to you? Sure did to me and has happened other times. Now sure what the unconscious mind does to a writer but it's like striking gold. I hope I've found all the loose ends in The Micro-manager murder. It's nearing the final re-write and soon I'll be able to write the End and start something new. By the end of this month is the goal.

Coming this week A re-release of what was formerly known as Flight will now be Escape and the series will be Affinities. The cover is the falling tower from the Tarot cards. What's interesting here is the falling people represent the four children's parents who metamorphize into birds who appear at strategic times in the four stories to guide and protect their children. This was another of those magic moments in a story linked to a fable the children have loved. "The Doma of The Birds. Imagination alwasy interests me. This book will have a free day on Kindle next week. As to my current writing I'm starting the final re-write of The Micro-manager Murder and then all that's left will be the checking for spelling and words that are words but are not the ones I want like our instead of out, those kind of things never picked up with the spell check.

On the blog as usual Tuesday will be Inspirations that have pushed me to write or that help other people write, almost always something another writer has said. Wednesday will be exploring Eileen Charbonneau's Elements of Fiction. A short book but one full of gems. Thursday wil be What I'm reading and here I'm torn between five or six writers. I read a lot. Friday and Saturday will see a new writer to me but one I hope everyone will enjoy and Sunday I'll be finding blogs that I f interesting. Wish I could read every blog and focus on them but that's an impossibility if one wants to write.

3 Blog Visit Sunday

I'm a guest up here today. http://karennacolcroft.com/special-guest-janet-lane-walters/

http://www.rachellegardner.com/2012/05/bad-habits-of-authors/

http://mahubooks.blogspot.com/

Saturday's Excerpt - Karenna Colcroft - Lost Soul

Blurb for Lost Soul, available from MLR Press, http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=KC_LSOUL

Sorcerer Joel Turcotte fuels his magic by stealing pieces of people's souls during sex. Since he caused the death of his lover a decade ago, he's careful to only take small pieces, but he regrets each one. When he meets Lanny Turcotte, he finds the strongest soul he's ever encountered, and one that's almost impossible to resist. Although Joel is reluctant to become involved with anyone, he and Lanny begin a relationship.
But Joel isn't the only sorcerer who wants Lanny. Can Joel protect his lover from other sorcerers---and from himself?

Excerpt:

The relationship was progressing well. Joel had even hinted a couple times that he was thinking about asking Lanny to move in with him. Lanny had decided not to decide until Joel made the invitation official, though he was leaning toward saying no. He loved Joel, and the condo was easily the most beautiful place he’d ever even considered living, but he didn’t want to be obligated to Joel in any way. And he didn’t want to risk becoming homeless if things didn’t work out between them.

Right then, he didn’t need to think about that. Joel had put him in charge of choosing the location for their date that night, and half an hour before the dealership closed for the night, Lanny was sitting at his desk running his mind through all the restaurants and grills he knew of in the area. It wasn’t a very long list.

Then something changed.

The place had been busy all day; Lanny wasn’t the only salesman whose numbers had improved since Joel’s presentation. Although they’d had a lot of customers, the overall energy of the dealership had been calm and stress-free. Even Barry Brigham, who’d shown up for an hour or so to check on how things were going, had seemed considerably more relaxed than usual.

That changed with the suddenness of a thunderstorm blowing in. Lanny couldn’t pinpoint at first where it began, but suddenly his chest tightened and a chill ran through him. The two salesmen who were still with customers went from relaxed chatting to leaning over their desks and speaking in too-forceful tones about the need to buy a car that day.

Aden.

Just as the name crossed Lanny’s mind, the man entered the showroom. He was dressed as he had been on the previous occasions: tailored clothes, leather boots, and exuding a sense of wealth and privilege.

He didn’t even pause to look around, but everyone in the showroom stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Everyone including Lanny, even though he fought to ignore the sorcerer. Whether it was magic or something else that drew people’s attention, it was far stronger than it had been the other times Aden had shown up. That pull Lanny had felt when Aden had tried magic on him before was so strong he couldn’t resist it.

He reached for his cell phone, but Aden was at his desk before he could dial. “I don’t think you need that.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Against his will but unable to ignore the command, Lanny lay the cell phone on the palm of her hand. “I’m not yours,” he said, each word an effort.

“I think that’s about to change.” Aden smiled and slipped Lanny’s phone into the pocket of his suit coat. “Come with me, Lanny. We have a lot to talk about, and I don’t think you’ll regret the conversation.”

He would regret it. He knew that too well. If he followed Aden, the man would soul-rip him and wouldn’t be as careful about it as Joel.
But he couldn’t help standing and taking a step toward Aden.



Blurb for Lost Soul, available from MLR Press, http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=KC_LSOUL

Sorcerer Joel Turcotte fuels his magic by stealing pieces of people's souls during sex. Since he caused the death of his lover a decade ago, he's careful to only take small pieces, but he regrets each one. When he meets Lanny Turcotte, he finds the strongest soul he's ever encountered, and one that's almost impossible to resist. Although Joel is reluctant to become involved with anyone, he and Lanny begin a relationship.
But Joel isn't the only sorcerer who wants Lanny. Can Joel protect his lover from other sorcerers---and from himself?

Excerpt:

The relationship was progressing well. Joel had even hinted a couple times that he was thinking about asking Lanny to move in with him. Lanny had decided not to decide until Joel made the invitation official, though he was leaning toward saying no. He loved Joel, and the condo was easily the most beautiful place he’d ever even considered living, but he didn’t want to be obligated to Joel in any way. And he didn’t want to risk becoming homeless if things didn’t work out between them.
Right then, he didn’t need to think about that. Joel had put him in charge of choosing the location for their date that night, and half an hour before the dealership closed for the night, Lanny was sitting at his desk running his mind through all the restaurants and grills he knew of in the area. It wasn’t a very long list.
Then something changed.
The place had been busy all day; Lanny wasn’t the only salesman whose numbers had improved since Joel’s presentation. Although they’d had a lot of customers, the overall energy of the dealership had been calm and stress-free. Even Barry Brigham, who’d shown up for an hour or so to check on how things were going, had seemed considerably more relaxed than usual.
That changed with the suddenness of a thunderstorm blowing in. Lanny couldn’t pinpoint at first where it began, but suddenly his chest tightened and a chill ran through him. The two salesmen who were still with customers went from relaxed chatting to leaning over their desks and speaking in too-forceful tones about the need to buy a car that day.
Aden.
Just as the name crossed Lanny’s mind, the man entered the showroom. He was dressed as he had been on the previous occasions: tailored clothes, leather boots, and exuding a sense of wealth and privilege.
He didn’t even pause to look around, but everyone in the showroom stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Everyone including Lanny, even though he fought to ignore the sorcerer. Whether it was magic or something else that drew people’s attention, it was far stronger than it had been the other times Aden had shown up. That pull Lanny had felt when Aden had tried magic on him before was so strong he couldn’t resist it.
He reached for his cell phone, but Aden was at his desk before he could dial. “I don’t think you need that.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Against his will but unable to ignore the command, Lanny lay the cell phone on the palm of her hand. “I’m not yours,” he said, each word an effort.
“I think that’s about to change.” Aden smiled and slipped Lanny’s phone into the pocket of his suit coat. “Come with me, Lanny. We have a lot to talk about, and I don’t think you’ll regret the conversation.”
He would regret it. He knew that too well. If he followed Aden, the man would soul-rip him and wouldn’t be as careful about it as Joel.
But he couldn’t help standing and taking a step toward Aden.

How She Does It - Karenna Colcroft

We all know there are six elements in writing fiction and often fact. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth which for me is the plot. What's your take on this?
I agree. I haven't really thought about it much, to be honest; for me the process of writing fiction happens so quickly in my brain that I don't really stop to analyze how many elements I have or what they are. But I agree with your statement.


1. How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific process?
No process. Most of the time the characters just jump fully-formed into my brain and say, "Hey, here I am, write about me." The times when I have had to try creating a character, the story hasn't worked out so well.


2. Do your characters come before the plot? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?
Again, I do a lot of the process in my head and it often goes pretty quickly, so sometimes the characters and plot seem to show up simultaneously. I used to let the characters lead the way, and I still do to an extent, but I'm experimenting now with doing a brief brainstorm prior to writing the story and a few brief notes each day before I start that day's round. It's a tip I saw on a blog (I've unfortunately forgotten which one), and since I started doing it this way I've consistently managed to write 5000-10,000 words per day.


3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?
It depends on the story. I usually have at least a vague idea of what the ending will be. Once in a while it's specific, but usually I get to the end and struggle a bit to figure out exactly what words will end it.


4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?
Most of my romances lately are set in the Boston area, where I live, so I'm familiar with it. As for the actual houses, buildings, etc., they're mostly figments of my imagination, other than a few public buildings that I can go into so I can describe them accurately. I also write novels for teenagers under the name Jo Ramsey, and most of those are set in and around Portland, Maine, where I grew up.


5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?
I avoid research whenever possible, but when I can't get around it I research online. I prefer to write about things I've already learned or write things that I can make up so that I don't have to research them.


6. Are you a draft writer or do you revise as you go along and why?
I'm very much a draft writer. If I revised as I went along, I would never finish anything.

You can find out more about Karenna Colcroft and her books on her website, www.karennacolcroft.com, or by joining her Facebook group, http://www.facebook.com/groups/261093317316839/. Her most recent release is the M/M paranormal romance Lost Soul, from MLR Press, which released May 4. Her next release will be the heterosexual paranormal romance novel Beta Test, from Passion in Print Press.