Writing

May Updates

I am really looking forward to going to Lori Foster’s Reader & Author Get Together  in Cincinnati the first weekend in June. I’ve been collecting goodies to put into little gift bags to be handed out at the conference. So far I have my Romance Trading Cards, some magnets, some chocolates, and I’m trying my hand at making some rings. We’ll see how many turn out!

 What else has been going on in my life these days? A lot. Everything except writing, it seems.

My mom had to have another surgery on her elbow. It was supposed to be sometime in May, but they moved it to the Thursday before Easter. I spent a good deal of that week with her at the hospital and  at home. Then, the following Saturday was Silks & Needles, the SCA event I was autocrating and teaching two classes at. Plus I had two lovely ladies from Winnepeg staying with me, so I had to clean, right? In between all that, I was working on the edits for Wolf’s Glory. I was already delayed in that because of the pneumonia that struck me down at the end of March. I’m still not entirely recovered from that.  Next weekend is Crown. Thankfully, I am not in charge of anything for that. I am having a crasher stay, but she’s an old friend, so I think she can suck it up and ignore the dust and c at hair. I am also helping Isabella sew garb for Quest For Camelot. She has such an elegant figure that it is fun to sew for her. But what this all amounts to is poor Tami is still languishing away at the den with Carla and Taye instead of getting it on with her hero.

Actually, I’ve completely neglected doing any housework so I could write. I wrote quite a bit this weekend. Tami has proposed to her strong, silent-type shy hero and he is currently riding through a snow storm to fetch a priest, keeping himself warm by daydreaming about their upcoming wedding night. Tracker is full of contrasts. He’s tough and merciless to those he considers enemies (which would be anyone who hurts Tami in any way), but he’s careful and gentle with Tami. There is one scene where he kills some men who are trying to capture Tami, and callously leaves them where they fell. But in a later scene, she cries and he is absolutely wretched, because he wants to comfort her, but is too shy to do more than hover anxiously and offer her a scrap of fabric to wipe her nose. I love Tracker.

I won’t have much chance to write this week either. I’m taking mom shopping tomorrow, sewing with Isabella on Tuesday, I have church Wednesday, my local Writers’ Guild meeting on Thursday, Friday Sete comes and I should do at least some cleaning, and Sat and Sun are Northshield Crown Tourney. If only I didn’t have to work a day job! 🙂 I’m expecting the final line edits for Wolf’s Glory around the end of the week, so the following week will be filled by the last edits. After I turn those in the book should be out in a few weeks later. Maybe mid-June? Or earlier? Fingers crosssed!

The Beagle

Photo by Gary Lura

One of the secondary characters in Wolf’s Glory is one of Wolf’s Shadow’s many cousins. This cousin is one who doesn’t spend a lot of time with the Clan. He’s a bit of a loner, not liking to be with large numbers of people, with the predictable nickname Lobo. He chose it himself, preferring it over his real name.  Lobo plays a small but important role in the story as he and his trusty sidekick help save Glory from being kidnapped. What sort of a sidekick does a werewolf have? Well, a beagle of course! What does Lobo call his trusty sidekick? The Beagle! Lobo is the sort of guy who today would lift weights, ride a Harley and be perfectly happy spending hours working on his bike with a beer at hand. He’s the kind of guy who is glad to offer a hand to his neighbors and rescue a damsel in distress as long as he isn’t required to stick around to receive their gratitude.  The Beagle, on the other hand, is thrilled to make friends with people, especially people who will pet her and feed her things that aren’t good for her. This is a picture of The Beagle, who is based on Raz, the dog belonging to my friend Jill Lamp and her husband Gary Lura. The Beagle is just like Raz, and Lobo may have a little of Gary in him, too. 😉

13 Titles for My Books

My Thursday 13 this week is a list of titles for books I have published, contracted, written, partially written or just thought of. Naturally, for those I have not contracted, names may change 🙂 Do you have this many partials just laying around? I’ve always written for fun. Now I’m thinking about bringing these out, brushing them off and typing them up for possible publication.

1. Sleeping With the Wolf (book 1, After the Crash)-published by Liquid Silver

2. Wolf’s Glory (book 2, After the Crash)-contracted by Liquid Silver

3. Tracking Tami (book 3, After the Crash) – 1st draft half written

4. Eddie’s Prize (book 4, After the Crash)- 1st draft written

5. Sky’s Rose (book 5, After the Crash) – not written

6. Saving Ellie (book 6, After the Crash) – not written

7. Blood Prince (book 1, Erabiri Trilogy) – 1st draft half written – romantic fantasy

8. The Stinger (book 2, Erabiri Trilogy) – 1st draft 3/4 written – romantic fantasy

9. Demon Prince (book 3, Erabiri Trilogy) – not written

10. Lord of the Black Riders (book 1, Down the Rabbit Hole) – fantasy romance – 3/4 written

11. Lord of Del Tai (book 2, Down the Rabbit Hole) – 1/3 written

12. Lord of Ice (book 3, Down the Rabbit Hole) – 1st draft written

13. Dream  Lady – takes place in the After the Crash world, in Japan, 100 years later. 1st draft 4/5 written.

Wolf’s Glory Excerpt

Here is the unedited first few pages of Wolf’s Glory. I would imagine there will be some changes made during editing, but meanwhile, enjoy!

                                            Wolf’s Glory, Chapter One  

Maybe they were doomed to walk the prairie forever, never finding help. Glory shook her head fiercely. No, that was tiredness and hunger speaking. There had to be people somewhere. This rotted old railroad track would lead them to civilization eventually. Glory threw a desperate look around and saw nothing but tall dry grass and blue sky as far as her eyes could see–just empty prairie as bare as it must have been when the pioneers first settled the West. If she and Jane didn’t find help, people would die. Maybe people had already died. It had been over twenty-four hours since they’d left the crash site and dozens of people had been hurt, some so badly that they hadn’t regained consciousness before the rescue teams had left the crash site. Jane still trudged along in her sensible librarian’s shoes, but turned her head back to look at Glory, a thin eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“Just hoping I might have missed some sign of civilization,” Glory muttered.

She watched Jane pull out her cell phone and try again, for the millionth time, to make a call. Glory sighed when Jane returned her cell phone to her purse. “Still nothing?”

Jane’s brown hair swayed over her shoulders when she shook her head. “Maybe the search and rescue team has already come,” she said hopefully.

“Maybe.” Glory didn’t say anything else. What was there to say that they hadn’t already said? Their plane had crashed and the only surviving member of the crew had tried repeatedly to send a mayday, but the plane’s radio didn’t work. Nor did any cell phones, and none of the survivors could connect with the Internet to send an email mayday. The co-pilot had told them that help was certainly on the way, and organized the efforts to free those trapped by the debris and make the injured more comfortable.

“Perhaps the co-pilot has gotten the plane’s radio to work by now.” Jane persisted in her cheery optimism. 

An optimist Glory was not. “Fat chance,” she grunted as she stumbled over the rough ground. “She spent hours trying to call, right?”

“Yes. She did.” Jane was slightly subdued, but lengthened her stride in determination. “Now it’s up to us to find help.”

Glory had to hand it to the co-pilot. Even though her ankle was smashed to smithereens, she had kept it together. She had done everything she could to get them help. But hours later, with no help yet on the scene and medical aid desperately needed, she had asked for volunteers to pair up and walk for help. Glory had volunteered, and so had others. The co-pilot rejected some as too young or too hurt, leaving six to be paired up into three teams that she sent in different directions. Glory had been paired up with Jane Terry, a forty-something librarian from St. Paul, and they’d been walking since yesterday afternoon without finding any sign of people at all.

Glory caught up with the librarian and resumed walking. She had been so excited yesterday morning when she had boarded the plane in Minneapolis that would take her to her job interview in San Francisco. After spending almost four years as a glorified aquarium cleaner at the Mall of America’s Underwater World, she had landed a face-to-face interview with an international ocean-life study center. To work as a researcher at a place like that would be a dream come true for Glory. Why else had she gotten her degree in marine biology? They were interested enough after a couple phone interviews to buy a plane ticket for her to come to them for a face-to-face.

Glory swore when her low-heeled pump got caught in the thick grass covering the rail, making her stumble again. Damn, that hurt. Jane gave her a prim glance of reproach, and Glory forced back more curses at her new shoes.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked.

Glory wondered what Jane would say if she cut loose with her normal repertoire of four-letter words, and cleared her throat. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Why did I buy these stupid shoes, anyway? Oh, yeah, because they go with this stupid business suit.”

“You want to make a good impression at the interview,” Jane said, looking approvingly at the boring business suit Glory was wearing and less approvingly at her hair.

True. Glory wanted the job so much that she had bought the sedate navy blue trousers and jacket for the interview. She doubted her usual dressy goth gear of black jeans, black satin bustier over a blood red silk T-shirt, and ankle-length black duster would have impressed them much. Too bad. She loved the way the bustier cinched in her waist and emphasized its curve. She was a big woman, but she had all the curves a woman could want. And then some. Her figure was more along the lines of Marilyn Monroe than Tyra Banks.

“Yeah. Like this outfit is going to impress anyone now. It’s ruined.”

“I’m sure your prospective employer will re-schedule your interview. Our misadventures are completely out of our control. It’s probable they are already aware of the crash. I’m sure that by now rescue teams have arrived on the scene.”

Geez, talk about Miss Pollyanna. The never-ending wind blew Glory’s hair into her eyes, and she shoved it behind her ear with an impatient hand. She had stripped the purple, red and black streaks from her hair and changed it to a pink that matched the blouse she’d bought to go with the suit. Yesterday before boarding the plane she’d smoothed it into a sleek French twist. Now it blew like a ragged curtain over the tops of her shoulders. She had left her nose ring and the rings for her left eyebrow at home, wearing only a tiny fake diamond stud in her nostril, with a matching pair of studs for her ears. When she had boarded the plane she had looked like a successful business person. A little boring… Well, a lot boring, but she really wanted this job. They were supposed to land in San Francisco at 2:36 p.m. Pacific time, and her interview was at four. She figured she’d have time to touch up her hair and makeup in the airport ladies’ lounge before taking a taxi straight to the interview.

Well, she had missed the job interview, and her new suit was ruined by her misadventures. She liked that word–misadventures. It sounded better than ‘her shitty luck.’

“You’re probably right.” Glory tried for some of Jane’s optimism. “They’ll reschedule the interview, won’t they? Sure, they will. After all, we’re heroes, braving the wilderness to get help to save the rest of the passengers.” The cheerfulness died when she stepped on a rock and bit off another four-letter word. “It never seems this hard in the movies.”

“Heroines,” Jane corrected. She smiled, but it was sober. “True. But we’re still better off than the ones left at the plane.”

So many of the passengers who had boarded the plane yesterday morning had been killed, including the little girl whose whiney complaints about not being able to run around had made Glory want to slap her during the first hour of the flight. Remembering her made Glory feel sick. What was she doing, worrying about her clothes and her feet and her interview when that little girl would never have a chance to grow up and have a job at all?

Hey, was that–? Glory squinted at a distant low hill. Yes! Something had moved out there! People? Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it was making her fuchsia silk T-top flutter.

“Hey, Jane, look! Look!” She jabbed Jane in the arm to bring her attention to the dots bobbing along in the distance and began hollering and waving her arms madly. Jane was more sedate, but she waved her arms too.

“Thank God,” Jane said. “Finally, we’ve found help.”

The dots came closer, turning into a dozen or so people on horseback, with a whole bunch of big dogs running alongside. Glory gaped as they rode up to them at a gallop and formed a circle around them, the horses kicking up so much dust that she began to cough. What the hell–? When the dust settled a bit she could see that they were Indians. They had long black hair and bare brown bodies made barely modest by a strip of fabric that covered their important bits in front and back but left their chests and legs bare. Every last one of them was model handsome. Their bodies, unconcealed by clothing, were mouthwateringly perfect. Crap, was this a movie set? They looked like they were actors in a Dances With Wolves movie. The dogs were huge. She thought they were wolves, but they were too big for that. Maybe a mixed breed? One of the dogs came right up to her and sniffed her crotch. She slapped at his muzzle, shouting, “No! Bad dog!”

Some of the Indians looked shocked. Laughter bubbled in her throat. Hysteria? Gloria refused to do hysteria. She swallowed hard to force it back. The dog stared at her for a minute, grinning at her with his tongue hanging over sharp teeth, then trotted off and disappeared behind the horses surrounding her.

She turned her attention back to the Indians, searching them for phones. She didn’t see any phones, and none of them wore enough clothing to hide a cell phone in, so she supposed they didn’t have any with them.

“Um.” Glory had to clear her throat to cut through the dust coating her throat. “Hi. Sorry to interrupt. But can you help us? Our airplane went down back that ways and – and … Wow.”

Another Indian walked through the horses, tightening the string around his waist that held his diaper thing up, and Glory completely forgot what she’d been saying. It was a movie set! That was her favorite wrestling star in makeup and a really long black wig. And very little clothing. Yowza. He was living proof that guys like the ones on romance covers really did exist. She swallowed, wiping a hand over her chin in case she was drooling, and started over.

“Hi. Look, sorry to bother you, but our plane crashed, and we need help. Like an ambulance. And…” her voice trailed off again because all these men were looking at her very strangely and sniffing the air. She and Jane weren’t freshly bathed, but talk about rude. “Hey!” She snapped her fingers. “Listen up! This is important.”

Jane gave her a patient look and took over. “Yes, gentlemen, Glory is correct. We need immediate medical assistance. There are approximately three dozen injured at the crash. Our cell phones are not working. They may have been damaged in the crash, or perhaps there’s no coverage here?” Her voice lifted at the end, inviting them to make a call for an ambulance.

Glory restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Jane was a nice lady, boring as beige paint, but nice. But who talked like that? Glory had a master’s degree in biology and she didn’t talk like a prissy British butler. During the last day Glory had concluded that she and Jane were total opposites. Glory listened to Nine Inch Nails and Linkin Park; Jane loved Bach. Glory and Jane both loved to read, but Glory liked hot vampire romances; Jane read literary masterpieces.

The romance cover model look-alike ignored Jane. He stepped even closer to Glory, and boy, did he smell good. She took a couple quick breaths to savor his scent. What cologne did he wear? Something spicy and so yummy that she wanted to push her nose into his neck and inhale. He growled something over his shoulder without taking his eyes from her. She should try to pay attention to what he was saying, but damn, he was so gorgeous she had trouble focusing. Geez, had she wandered into a rehearsal for the movie? Where was the director? Any movie with a hot piece of eye candy like this guy would get her money at the ticket booth. And if he was dressed like he was now, they’d get her money multiple times. Holy cow, he was so big and buff he made her feel like a size ten.

“Look,” she told him. “Mister … um … I’m really sorry to interrupt your movie stuff, but like Jane said, people are hurt. We need to get them some help right away.”

“You can call me Um if you want,” he said in a low rumble that made her want to melt into a puddle of feminine goo at his feet. His smile was quick and white. “My name is Wolf’s Shadow. What is your name?”

Yum, is more like it, she almost blurted. “Gloria Peterson. Well, Glory. And this is Jane Terry.” He was really into his part. Unless he wasn’t an actor? It sure looked like he must be an actor, or maybe a model, with that handsome face and even more handsome bod. How many guys looked that good, especially wearing only a diaper? Well, not a diaper. A breechcloth. It showed off the side of his body from ankle to armpit  very nicely. He must do some serious lifting, to have such a well-developed physique. Glory could look at him all day. Too bad they didn’t have time for that. “Can you help us? Do you have a phone?”

He looked from her to Jane, a slight frown pulling his brows toward each other. “We have no phones. Where are your men? Why did they send two women out alone?”

Glory swelled with tired outrage at his critical tone, but Jane’s voice was mellow. “All the men are injured or killed. There was no one else to go for help.”

Wolf’s Shadow turned his head toward another of the Indians, and the wind lifted his hair. Was that shiny black curtain falling down his back and brushing his butt real? Holy crap. “Stag, take the others to the injured.” He looked at Jane and indicated one of the other men. “My cousin Jumping Stag has medical training. He and the others will go with you to help your friends. I will take Ms. Peterson back to our camp to rest.”

Glory was tired, and her feet in their new pumps were killing her. But Jane must be tired too. Neither one of them had slept well last night. Without sleeping bags or a tent to keep them warm, they had huddled together so closely that in some cultures they would be considered a married couple. It was one of the few mornings in her entire life that Glory had been glad to see the sun come up.

“Jane is tired too,” she began. “I don’t think we should separate. The co-pilot said we should stick together.”

Wolf’s Shadow frowned. “You will come with me to camp,” he ordered.

Glory eyed his magnificent physique with appreciative disgust. Wasn’t that just the way it went? Guys that good-looking were just naturally bossy. It came from being used to getting what they wanted. Too bad for him she was used to going against the flow. “Sorry. We’re sticking together. No offense or anything, but I don’t even know you.”

For some reason that made him smile approvingly. “Don’t worry. I promise my intentions are strictly honorable.”

Pity, thought Glory.

Thursday 13- Things that Compete with my Writing Time

What would it be like to be able write whenever I wanted to? A friend of mine seemed surprised that I couldn’t write whenever I wanted to. After all, I’m single and I don’t have children.  But there are things that keep me away from my Work in Progress, some that I could avoid with a little more self-discipline, and some that I cannot avoid. Do you have any of these issues?

1. The Day Job. I love to write, but I have a Monday to Friday job that pays the bills and rent and buys the groceries. And we’ve been on overtime since November, so I spend about 50 hours a week (including lunch times) at my desk at work. Not avoidable.

2.  Cleaning and Laundry. I really ought to put more of my time into this, but i don’t. Sue me.

3. Knitting and attending knitting/spinning functions. This is something I love, so I don’t try to avoid it. Besides, it is my sanity savior, so I don’t want to cut it out.

4. Sewing. I actually don’t enjoy this, but I need to do it for my SCA stuff. Again, sanity saving.

5. SCA functions. Meetings, fight practices, events where I get to hang with friends. Again, the sanity thing.

6. Reading. I haven’t done this very much lately. Pity. I want to.

7. Zuma Blitz. One of those addictive games on Facebook. I probably should try to cut back on this. It is neither productive nor sanity saving.

8. Facebook in general. It’s good to keep in touch with friends, but a limit must be imposed. 

9. Romance Divas. I LOVE this site, where other writers support each other and share. But I need to use my time wisely.

10. Twitter. I’m doing pretty well at managing my time there.

11. Church. I’m certainly not saying I need to cut back. Just mentioning that Sunday mornings are not a time for me to write.

12. Baseball. Watching, not playing. I’m a huge Minnesota Twins fan, and April is just around the corner. I can knit while watching the game, but not write.

13. The cats. I love them, but if Merry Miaow isn’t in my lap, Little Bit is. They seem direly offended that I have something in my lap other than one or both of them. I’ve tried to explain that the black thing accross my legs isn’t a special bed for them to sleep in. I don’t think they get it.

Cover Art For Wolf’s Glory is Here!

Here’s the cover art for After the Crash, Book 2: Wolf’s Glory.  I fell in love with this the first time I saw it. The artist, Lyn Taylor, did an amazing job. I got word from my editor that she will send me my first round of edits for Wolf’s Glory over the weekend, so I’ve been working hard on Tracking Tami. I just wanted you all to get a sneak peek at Glory in all her gothy goodness 🙂

Romance Trading Cards

 

Hey, all you romance readers, here’s something fun for you!

Romance Trading Cards are the freaking awesome idea of Jeannie Lin, Amanda Berry and some other authors. On the front of the card is an image of a book cover, and the back has somne info about the book or featured character. Who knows, these might be collectors items in the future. Do you know how much some rare baseball cards go for these days? Well, okay, maybe they won’t ever be that popular … But this is wicked cool. The idea is that authors will bring them along to conventions like Romantic Times and RWA, and other conferences for people to collect. I’ll have mine at Lori Foster’s Reader Writer Get Together. Kim Killion ofwww.hotdamndesigns.com did mine for me (since I’m so totally clueless when it comes to graphic art type things). Thank God for Kim and her talent.

I should be getting them in a few weeks or a month. If you would like one and are not going to Lori Foster’s get together, you can email me atmaddybarone@gmail.com and I’ll get one mailed out to you.

To see the ever growing list of authors who are involved with this and their cards, go towww.romancetradingcards.com
Isn’t this great?

What Happens After a Manuscript is Accepted?

Have you ever wondered what exactly happens after an author submits a story and a publisher accepts it? Well, I’m not an expert, and I can only speak for my own experiences with e-publishing. Other authors may have very different experiences. But here is mine.
1. The author has read, polished, re-read and re-polished the story and submits it to a publisher.
Let’s pretend that the publisher decides they want to offer a contract for the book with no pre-contract revisions requested. (Sometimes a publisher may think the story has promise, but they want  to see some changes before they accept  the book.)
2. In a few days or a week, the publisher sends a contract to the author to sign. Contracts differ from publisher to publisher.  The author reads over the contract, makes sure s/he has no questions or concerns (The house I’m with, Liquid Silver Books, has a very straight forward, easy to read contract) and if s/he is satisfied, the author signs the contract and returns it to the publisher.
3. The publisher sends a Cover Art form to the author. The author describes his/her characters, perhaps some key scenes from the story etc, and returns it to the publisher.
4. After a month or three the editor contacts the author and the editing process begins. This might take a couple months, depending on how many times the editor and author go through the story. My editor did a first pass to have me correct some grammer and basics, and then a second pass to add some more description and round out some scenes, and a third polishing pass.
5. The artist turns in his/her initial mock up cover art and the publisher sends it to the author. The author may make some suggestions or want some changes made. These suggestions may or may not be accepted. The author has limited control over his/her cover.
6. The author writes a blurb about the story, about 100 words. It should tell a reader what to expect and “hook” them so they’ll want to read it.
7. Final cover art is submitted and approved. The publisher sends it to the author. The author (that is to say, ME) will show it off to everyone, even complete strangers, and post it on their website or blog.
8. Final Line Edits are sent to the author. The copy editor is probably a different person than the previous editor. This is the final edit to catch any spelling and grammar errors, and perhaps some details that may detract from the story.
9.  The author is given a Release Date. S/he may do some special blogging or other types of promotion for the new book.
10. The book comes out!
11. Royalties come pouring in. (Hopefully. 🙂  But for someone like me who has never been paid for writing, even a small check is exciting.)
For most epublishers the time from signing the contract to release is around 6 months. My first book was 4 months two weeks from signing the contract to the release date. Right now I’m at step 3 for Wolf’s Glory, and have Tracking Tami about 1/3 of the way written in rough draft. 
I’ve always loved to write. Now it’s a job, so I have to take it more seriously and be sure I can meet deadlines. Sometimes it seems a little less fun and more like work, but I still love it.

Good News on the Writing Front

This morning I signed the contract with Liquid Silver Books for Wolf’s Glory, and I just sent in the Cover Art Request form now. I’m not sure exactly, but I’m guessing the book will be available the end of June or the beginning of July.

To celebrate, here is a short unedited excerpt of Glory and Shadow meeting for the first time.  After their plane crashed Glory and Jane were paired up to walk to find help for the injured. After a day of walking over empty prairie they find a group of men on horseback with a pack of dogs and flag them down for help.

Glory turned her attention back to the Indians, searching them for phones. She didn’t see any and none of them wore enough clothing to hide a cell phone in, so she supposed they didn’t have any with them.

“Um.” Glory had to clear her throat to cut through the dust coating her throat. “Hi. Sorry to interrupt your … whatever you’re doing. But can you help us? Our airplane went down back that ways and – and … Wow.”

Another Indian walked through the horses, tightening the string around his waist that held his breechcloth up, and Glory completely forgot what she’d been saying. It was a movie set! Who else would dress like this except actors making a Dances With Wolves movie? That was her favorite wrestling star in makeup and a really long black wig. And very little clothing. Yowza. He was living proof that guys like the ones on romance covers really did exist. Damn, he was hot. She swallowed, wiping a hand over her chin in case she was drooling, and started over.

“Hi. Look, sorry to bother you, but our plane crashed and we need help. Like an ambulance. And …” her voice trailed off again because all these men were looking at her very strangely and sniffing the air. The extra-gorgeous one leaned down to sniff at her neck. She and Jane weren’t freshly bathed, but talk about rude.  “Hey!” She snapped her fingers. “Listen up! This is important.”

Valentine’s Blog Hop

Welcome to the Valentines Blog Hop!

If you happen to fall off the tour bus, you can hop back on here.

I hope you’ve been enjoying the various snippets and excerpts we’re posting for this blog hop. I love doing these. I was  a reader long before I was a writer and I look forward to getting to know writers and finding more books to add to my To-Be-Read pile.

My excerpt is part of a scene that will appear in the next After the Crash book, and may be the intro to the 5th book in the series. Rose Turner was not quite sixteen when her plane crashed fifty years in the future. There was no electricity or cars or other technology in this future, and women were scarce. What the future did have was men that could turn into wolves. And one of them, a teenager just a little older than she, had claimed her for his mate. This excerpt takes place a month after they first met. Their story will take place seven years in the future. Sky and Rose have quite a bit of growing up to do before they can truly fall in love with each other. The first book in the series, Sleeping With the Wolf  (the story of how Taye won Carla’s love), is the prize I’m offering.

Don’t forget to join us at 6pm Central Time (7pm Eastern time) for a chat at Gem Sivad’s chat room.

            Rose left her room in the den to head to supper. Her stomach dropped when she saw Sky leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for her. He was wearing only a pair of worn out jeans, which was more than most of the wolves here wore. His bare chest was overly developed for a seventeen-year-old, Rose sniffed to herself. For just one second, she wanted to step back into her room and slam the door shut. Taye, the Pack Alpha, had forbidden Sky to set foot in her room; it was the only place she was safe from him. Not that Sky would hurt her. No, of course he wouldn’t, but ever since he had announced that his wolf had chosen her for his mate she had felt like a rabbit he was hunting.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. In her world she would have been dating the speech and debate team captain, not avoiding a teenaged werewolf who had all the social graces of a caveman.

 The hallway was too narrow for her to walk past him without coming within arm’s reach of him. Should she go back into her room and hope he went away? Sky didn’t give her a chance to retreat. With the unnatural speed and grace that all the wolves had, he bounded forward and snatched her arm. “You sat next to that Kearney man,” he accused in a snarl.

“I didn’t sit next to him. He sat next to me! Not that it’s any of your business who I sit by.”

“It is. You’re my mate,” he said, hard and furious.

“No!” Rose shouted, trying to free her arm. “I’m not your mate! Even if we weren’t too young, you couldn’t pay me enough to be your mate.”

Sky’s voice rose to a muted roar. “You are my mate, and I’ll kill the next man who touches you.”

“Could you please be a little more dramatic?”

Her sarcasm rolled right off his bare broad shoulders. His eyes, unearthly blue in his dark face, shimmered like a cat’s. “You shouldn’t play with me, mate.”

“I’m not playing.” Rose tried to smooth her voice to something calm and reasonable. “I’m only sixteen. You’re just seventeen. Carla said you should leave me alone until I’m eighteen. Then we can … discuss our relationship.”

With a strength that no seventeen year old should have, Sky pushed her against the wall and held her there. “Why should we wait? We’re old enough.”

Rose yelled, “Let me go! Stop! Help!”

The strength of his body pressing against her almost made her forget how the scent of him always made her knees weak. He had her sandwiched between his near-naked body and the wall, holding her hands above her head, so even if her knees did buckle she couldn’t fall. She stared wide-eyed into his face for a long second and then he was kissing her savagely in spite of her attempts to jerk her head away.

“No,” she tried to say, but his mouth smothered her voice. And … It smothered her resistance too. His mouth was rough on hers but hot too, and his weight was pressing on that one spot that made her want to squirm even closer. She dimly felt his hands roam the collar of her shirt.

Then out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. Taye was coming up the hallway like a thunderstorm rolling across the sky. He tore Sky away from Rose and threw him into the opposite wall. Rose gasped, trying to control her shudders. Of relief? Or just reaction to Sky’s  forceful lovemaking?

The hallway was filling with  wolves. Carla pushed her way to the front of the crowd to stare with horrified eyes at Sky. Sky was half-crouched against the wall, staring defiantly at Taye. And Taye—easy-going Taye—was standing tall and unmoving, putting out infuriated Alpha vibes that made Rose want to cringe and thank God it was directed at Sky instead of her. Her hand shook as she wiped at the tears she hadn’t known she’d shed.

“Sky, explain yourself,” Taye demanded.

For another second Sky held Taye’s eyes. Then his challenge wavered, his eyes dropped and he tilted back his head to show his throat.

“Explain yourself,” Taye said again, more mildly. “We do not ever hurt our mates.”

Sky slid a yearning look at Rose before answering. “I only did what the man in the book you gave me did to his woman when she defied him. I held Rose so she couldn’t get away and I kissed her. I was going to tear her shirt off like the man in the book did, but I didn’t want to ruin her shirt by ripping it so I tried to take it off her gently—but she started to cry. That’s not what happened in the book!” He glared accusingly at Taye.

“Taye!” Carla’s voice was exasperated. “You gave him one of your romance novels to use as a game plan for seducing Rose?”

Sky said defensively, “It worked for the Chief. You fell in love with him right away.”

“He never held me down and tried to force me … Oh, never mind! Those books are a lot of fun to read, but they’re not real. Women don’t really want to be treated like that.”

Now Taye was frowning. “But last night—“

“Sh!” hissed Carla, blushing. She cleared her throat and shot a self-conscious look around at all the interested faces in the hallway. “After a woman gets to know a man she might—might!—enjoy pretending sometimes. But not right away. In the beginning a man should bring a woman roses. When he’s sure she’s the right one, he should get down on one knee and beg her to love him.”

Wolves were staring at Carla, fascinated. Taye looked horror-struck. “You wanted me to beg you to love me?”

Carla curled her mouth into a tiny smile, looked her tall muscular mate up and down, and shook her head.  “I didn’t need to beg you to love me. I already knew you did.”

Taye took her hand and pressed  a kiss to her palm. “I loved you the moment I first saw you. You will never need to beg me for anything.”

Sky straightened up from his crouch with a sound of disgust. He leveled a glare at Rose, who folded her arms and said loudly, “I will never beg you for anything.”

“We’ll see about that,” he snapped back.

Taye turned around, the tender lover gone and the furious Alpha back. He hoisted Sky up by one hand under his arm and dragged him down the hall. “You have a lot to learn about being a mate and until you show some sign of learning it, you will stay away from Rose.”

Rose let out a shaky breath, finally relaxing. But when Sky looked back at her she froze again. His long black hair swaying over his back was as beautiful as a woman’s, but the heat in those blue eyes was all male. It promised her that this was not over.